#hello sorry this deteriorates at the end

[silkythewriter]

Hello! Can I request alastor x reader where the two were married while they were alive, but reader died via illness or something and went to hell (though they never partaked in the cannibalism) and the reunite in hell?

“I'll love you 'til I'm dead”

Warning!: Angst, but eventually fluff! A bit of OOC since I haven’t written in awhile.. (.,.)💧

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note: LONGGGGG TIME NO SEE, HIYA! IM SO SORRY FOR MY HIATUS OF SORTS BUT I FELT LIKE WRITING SUM SMALL ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ I apologize!, I hope you guys enjoy and I’m so sorry for disagreeing yet again!.

Summary!: Spouse! Reader dying via sickness, but reuniting with alastor in hell.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

Louise (Louise)

I'll love you 'til I'm dead

Louise (Louise)

Not even if she likes the way you dance

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

First of all, he cherished you to the fullest content. As stuck up as he seems to be smile and all, he was in desperate need of support and attention. And you supplying both of those was all he needed even if he didn’t say out loud the tender touches and moments you both shared alone was enough to tell you everything.

Your relationship was nothing less then sweet and tender, and depending if you knew of his..ahem..little side hobby, it was innocent as well!

He cared for you so deeply, so desperately, to the point where you became his tie to humanity. Of course he knew how to play a role of a sane man, but even then he needed you to tie him to the small humanity and sanity he had.

Although not a big fan of physical affection himself he would in private of course, indulge in your soft touches, and hold. He and there he may quietly slip next to you just so you could softly run you fingers across his skin.

But of course the unviable happen, as the world ripped him of what he held so dear. Maybe as a punishment for his sins and misdeeds, or simply because it could.

Of course in the 30’s medicine was far from advanced, not only that but expensive. So when the news arrived of your newly found sickness all he could do was smile and nod at the doctor as if he wasn’t receiving the most dreadful news.

At first, he genuinely did hope for a recovery, he believed you would get better. Sure a tiny voice in his head was feeding him scary thoughts, and his gut twisted and turned. He felt something was off but surely it was nothing!, right?.

But as your health deteriorated so did his mental state and sanity, even worse then it once was. He put up a front though, for your sake and his, comforting you and saying how you’ll be fine soon, and recover then both of you could go off and do something you always wanted to do.

At some points of repeating this it really turned into him assuring himself. That your not leaving him, no, not anytime soon.

The more you fell ill the more you watched him spiral infront of you. And all you really could do was stare at him with sadden eyes as you gave comforting touches against his cheek or holding him close, even if you could barely pull yourself up from the bed you laid.

You felt your time coming close to ending, and somehow so did he. But unlike you he denied it to the fullest extent.

“Please dear don’t speak of such things, don’t worry yourself. You’ll be fine you’ll see!, now just rest my dear”

He wanted to believe it’ll pass over anytime now, ignoring the doctors he spent fortunes on. And sometimes he does blame them even if they just told the truth. He hated how they couldn’t help you, how he couldn’t help you.

So the day of you passing was the day he lost his final tie to humanity. If not for you, why give such a nasty world mercy?.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

The minute they lowered your casket and buried you with the dirt is also the day he decided to amp up his murders.

He’s not sloppy with his murders their always calculated and tidy but grossem. Even with this, losing you he couldn’t concentrate which didn’t help his case as his blood lust grew and grew.

Each and every murder his mind went blank, thoughts of you kept flooding in that he desperately wanted to rip from his mind.

If a woman that wore you same fragrant passed him. She would be gone in a matter of days.

Nights were colder, harsher, he always assumed karma would catch up to him, but to him not you.

He often questioned what happened how did it happen. How did you even get such a illness?, and why did it have to be you?. We’re you in heaven watching him in his pitiful state? Was there even such a thing?. If there was…he surely wasn’t going to see you he knew where he was damned to go, but you?, he was sure you deserved the Pearl-ist set of wings.

Depending on the days, months or years following your death, he’s like a ticking time bomb.

He yearns for you in such a way he’s humiliated at it in a way. He misses you desperately, widowed too soon, he always assumed it would be you to be in this position, but he assumed wrong.

Even then he couldn’t tell if he could subject you to the twist of his heart and guts. He would beg to die before you, but the pain he feels now is something he would never want you to feel.

Following thoughts of your death was also his. Would he get to see you soon?, one last glance before being damned?.

He never truly moved on, cause you were his only love. Loving someone for him atleast, was rare in a romantic sense.

At some point he genuinely does just continue his murders till his death, maybe it was your passing that truly killed him. After your passing he was a bit hasty, maybe that’s what lead him to be shot in the woods. But who truly knows?

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

Now, after his death is where everything truly came together.

His rise to power was fairly quick killing overloads one by one gaining more voices on his radio.

But the lingering feeling of hope stayed in him…maybe you were here? Waiting for him?, But at the same time he hated this life for you, in such a miserable and disgusting yet admittedly amusing place(at least to him)

Now depending on how you found him maybe the minute his radio debuted. Or maybe by a game of telephone by the residents in hell whispering rumors and describing someone all to familiar to you.

Either way! You guys do eventually find each other. By chance or destiny is up to you

The minute he spots you, hears you, even senses you, he freezes. His smile never flattering but static surrounding the area as he processes what’s happening. Is this some sort of trick?, how..how did you end up here?

In a matter a seconds though he’s in front of you, looming as his shadow grows in suspense.

He holds his appearance and self image very important but in this tiny moment of silence. He lets it slip even if just a bit, smile never faltering but I’m his eyes a glimpse of renewed joy. Genuine joy, not form the harms of others but from something warm…something bitter sweet.

Maybe it’s you who pipes up snapping him from observing you like a painting in a museum.

“See?” You said softly grabbing his hand gently like you used to do, as you softly brought it to your face and softly planted it on your cheek. “I’m real” you said with a soft smile (SILENT HILL REFERENCE!!¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Depending on where you are he’s quick to whisk you away to somewhere secluded.

Despite the questions on his mind all he can do is silently stare at you taking in ever detail, even if some changes here and there, you were still you. The you that he missed so desperately for all too long.

Even if not one for physical affection he’s quick with holding you, scared of you being taken from him again, taking in all he can.

Your so much more precious then he leads on, and he’ll be damned to second hell if he loses you again.

In the period of first meeting you again he is keen on keeping an eye one you 24/7, doesn’t matter what powers or how long you survived without him in hell. He can’t risk it, especially not now as he started accumulating enemies so quickly.

He’ll treat you like it’s your first time dating, of course in his old time-y way, but either surprising you with flowers at random times of the day, or watching you get giddy when he kisses the crown of your head.

Now that he knows, and felt the pain of losing you, every moment you have together form than on is cherished more than before. He remembers every day with you like the back of his hand, what you ate, what you said, what you wore, and more!

He know’s…he knows he’s a messed up, and vail man. He understands the gruesome things he’s done with little to no regret. But if he did in somehow and some way do good, something good to earn you back in his afterlife man is he greatful for it.

Some nights he does just stare at you. He’s scared, he will never show it but he is. If he loses you again, for eternity, he’s not sure what’d he do with himself. And that, the fact you weight so heavily on him is the second scariest thing, first being losing you.

Over all, he’s taken aback having you back, but he gets use to it very quickly, your soft comforting touches and your voice that brings back a flood of memories is something he will never forget nor let ago, he isn’t losing you this time, and he’ll do anything to make sure of that.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

WOW THAT WAS LONG, I LOVED WRITING IT THOUGH OH MY GOSH I LOVED THIS IDEA, PLEASE REQUEST AGAIN!!! \(^ヮ^)/

[jennifer-jeong]

Guess who😊

As a reference to what you posted earlier, imagine that after the reader dies of old age, Xiao and Scaramouche encounter a reincarnation of themselves? It's your choice to make them mortal or not (I'm under your bed. If you make them mortal I will kick your feet at night.)

Take your time dear <3

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FJDKSLA;FJDSA; life has been kicking my ASS but fuck it we ball HELLO MY MUTUAL THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST, I’ve honestly been thinking hard because I want to also request some ideas because your writing is so sweet ehehehe OK PLEASE DON’T KICK MY FEET AT NIGHT THAT’S HORRIFYING - I WILL MAKE THE REINCARNATION IMMORTAL

ALSO @iota1111 these are my ideas for that Xiao and Wanderer angst! If you read only to the *** in each fic, that would be where I’d end the story if it wasn’t meant to be a happy ending! (I would suffer!!!!)

Fluff + Angst | Xiao/Wanderer x GN!Reader Reincarnation

CONTENT Angst to fluff, happy ending, reader death, mentions of death, mentions of fighting/them taking their anger out on things

XIAO

When you passed away, Xiao was absolutely heartbroken. He knew it was coming, he prepared for it, he stayed by your side through your deteriorating health in your last few months. But no matter what, he knew it would destroy him, and it did.

No one saw Xiao for weeks after but everyone noticed that Liyue was safer than ever. Xiao engrossed himself in his work. Taking out his emotions onto the monsters in Liyue. He worked himself to exhaustion every single day. Zhongli still came to check up on him but knew Xiao just needed time.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. What was he supposed to do? You were gone. HIs sunshine, his muse, his… everything.

Xiao collapsed after giving himself no rest for who knows how many nights. Laying in the grass, he stared up at the moon. Asking himself what he could’ve done differently and if he could’ve "selfishly" extended your life. If he could’ve made you immortal like him.

He listened to the bugs chirp around him, the breeze drying the tears he didn’t know were falling. For the first time in a long time, he cried. He sobbed and bit back the urge to lash out at everything in the vicinity. He was on his side, clutching his aching heart, crying into the soft grass he used to lay on with you.

He had gone through so much pain in his life: his karmic debt, the abuse from his old master, losing his found family, and all the years of deafening solitude.

But nothing would ever hurt more than losing you.

Xiao cried his heart out and knocked out from the exhaustion and pain. He slept peacefully for the first time since you passed. *** Xiao woke up the next morning with a start. Confused and disoriented not because of where he had fallen asleep, but because he sensed something insane.

He sensed you.

It was your soul, the one he swore himself to. There was no denying it. Was this a sick joke? Was some old evil spirit messing with him?

It had been months since your passing but there was no denying it. It was you.

Unfortunately, years would pass while Xiao searched for you. He was obsessed over it at first but once he could tell that your soul was safe and alive, he relaxed just a little. He still wanted to see you again, hold you, and whisper how much he loved you, but he knew you’d find each other eventually. He made himself a silent promise that he’d find you no matter what. He didn’t really have much else to do for all of eternity anyways.

Xiao confided in Zhongli through these years, the elder god revealing the possibility of reincarnation, revealing that it’s not uncommon. Souls return to the Earth in many forms but he hints to Xiao that he believes what he’s sensing is indeed you in human form.

Eventually, Xiao would be on a typical nightly patrol, sensing your soul nearby as always. But it was a bit different today. It was stronger.

As if right on cue, Xiao entered a clearing and despite it being nighttime, he saw the sun.

His beautiful sun had somehow risen again against all odds. You didn’t know his name but you knew his soul.

He recognized the sigil on your clothing, it belonged to an adeptus master he hadn’t seen in decades. The draconic horns on your head told him you were reborn in a different body, an immortal body. One that had you trained as an adepti for these past years, likely hidden away in a domain. It clicked in his head. It’s why he could always sense you, but never quite find where you were.

You turned around after feeling his approach. He wondered if you could feel his soul the way he felt yours. If you longed for him even in your new existence. He had so much to ask. But you pulled him out of his noisy thoughts.

Your voice brought him serenity he had long forgotten.

His heart pounded as you spoke.

“I missed you, my love.”

Instantly you were in each other's arms.

“I missed you too,” he says as his voice cracks.

WANDERER

He was angry, reverting back to how he was before Nahida, the traveler, and you helped him. He blamed the gods, the world, for his sorrows, for his pain. He sought to destroy it all again for somehow making his suffering worse. He had felt pain similar to this. It was all too familiar for him. The constant cycle of loss, betrayal, and agony. But this time, he was on the brink of insanity.

You, his perfect flower, had finally wilted.

He’s stuck bargaining for months, reverting between stages of grief: anger and bargaining. Never able to move on past that.

He continues on his missions for Nahida because he knows it’s what you've wanted but also because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Any of his combat missions turned into tortures and near assassinations. He used it as a tool to cool himself off, much to the silent disapproval of Nahida. But she knew he’d never disobey your wishes, your morals. You taught him better than to kill out of emotion.

Wanderer commonly visits the forests where you two used to adventure to find some sort of peace and familiarity. He tends to avoid the Aranara despite the fact that they know about your passing and would probably be able to comfort him about it. He just didn’t think he could handle it.

Seasons pass and on one of his trips into the sunny lush forests, growing again due to the spring season, Aranara bring him your favourite flowers when they bloom again the next year. They loved you dearly too, you treated them and the forest with such gentleness that they could never forget you. They didn’t know how to approach him earlier so they used this opportunity instead.

His heart ached and his anemo vision surged with energy when he saw the flower. He finally reached his breaking point, he fell to his knees on the grass and sobbed, clutching the flower to his chest. Letting go of all the stupid anger and bargaining. Who was he kidding, he just didn’t want to accept that he’d have to keep going without you. *** The Aranara tell him not to worry though, comforting and telling him it will be okay. At first he’s confused as to what they mean but Nahida walks out into the sunlit clearing, the sun about to start setting.

She tells him she knows it hurts but that the Irminsul has a message for him and it says that he should not fret and continue to live on and explore the forest. His tear stained face raised an eyebrow but it slowly turned to determination, he knew Irminsul would not lie.

It would take years but he slowly started to feel you nearby. He’d dream of you. The forest felt like you and he could feel your energy in the flora. He confided in Nahida and their bond only grew stronger, he’d also reach out to the Aranara when he’d adventure out of the city.

Eventually, the Aranara prepared and held a ceremony, sensing the birthing of something new, a nature spirit. Nahida described it using the term “nymph.”

Wanderer was silent as he put the pieces together. He held his breath as he realized it might be you. Your reincarnation.

He always saw you as his flower, but he didn’t think you’d become a nature spirit, he was not complaining about it in the slightest though.

Nahida explained that you would exist in the physical realm but had strong ties to the dream realm, you’d be immortal like Aranara are but you’d still be able to live with him in the physical.

As you manifested and blinked open your eyes, you immediately looked at him.

His hands were shaking, unsure if he was scared, happy, both? Was it really you? Had the world finally decided to grant him happiness instead of sorrow? Was this a gift?

But as you took gentle steps towards him, he realized something important:

It didn’t matter.

You were here again, in front of him. Nothing else mattered.

You reached out to hold his face with your hands. You knew him, you knew your soul belonged to him and his to you.

He drew in closer to you, holding your face and touching your foreheads together, tears threatening to fall.

Your beautiful voice spoke to him again in what felt like an eternity. He had almost forgotten what you sounded like.

“Don’t cry my love, I’m here.”

His eyebrows scrunched as his tears fell. He wraps his arms around you tight, never wanting to let go, scared you’d leave him again.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered shakily, scared that his voice would fail if he tried to speak.

“I missed you too. I’m here to stay.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[captain-joongz]

so I'm thinking too much about it and I really want to share with someone

so if you feel comfortable, can u write idol soobin x staff gf having a moment alone (🔞) just before he goes on stage??

I have to admit i think about it too much

hello darling, of course i can! i'm so sorry for the delay, but i'm finally here to answer you <3 i hope you weren't too disappointed not seeing your ask here for such a long time, i owe you one my darling ;))

one Soobin x staff!girlfriend coming right up!

warnings: sex in a public place, oral (f. rec.), dating in a workplace

when you managed to get a job as part of the TXT manager team, you definitely didn't expect anything to come out of it except for friendly coworking relationship. you'd heard the boys were nice to their staff and fun to be around, and you were excited to start your career and get to know your clients

what you couldn't have foreseen was how you immediately just clicked with Soobin. at first you were friendly, than your relationship quickly shifted into teasing and playful flirting until one night the man came to you after a show and admitted to having real feelings for you

you were understandably hesistant at first - you were worried about it being unprofessional, about causing problems for the young idol and his group and also about having to sneak around. Soobin understood and gave you space, but you ended up caving after two weeks of painful silent stares and tension that wasn't lost on anybody

and you never regretted that decision - Soobin was sweet, he could be playful but he was loving, as the leader of the group he knew how to effortlessly switch between more youthful approach and sincere maturity when the situation asked for it, and he made you so so happy. and that was hard to hide

you did try to keep your relationship secret at the beginning, but how much could you two fools in love really keep from others - it was obvious to everybody around you two that you got together, but for the sake of the working space they said nothing - as long as you two kept it to time off and your relationship didn't get in the way of boys' activities, you were cool

the boys teased you two mercilessly, especially Yeonjun and Beomgyu just wouldn't shut up, something deteriorating all the way back to elementary humour with making kissy noises and faces around you two, but you always just laughed and let Soobin deal with it (read - start beating them up until they ran away in fits of giggles)

it was like a big unspoken open secret - everybody knew but nobody said anything out of fear it would get you into trouble

but you two were quite enough on your own to get yourselves into trouble. being around Soobin so much, seeing him before and after performances, helping him get ready and watching him return drenched in sweat with a glow of post-performance adrenaline... well let's say it was way harder to focus on doing your job (which was catering to the boys' needs anyway, so what if he needed to bend you over something, technically that counted as doing your job, right?)

remember what i said about everybody being okay with you two dating as long as it didn't get in the way? yeah that didn't last long, especially when Soobin looked soo pretty when he was getting all done up and he teased you mercilessly knowing you found him attractive like that, and the rush as he returned back-stage after resulted in several instances of you being pulled into empty changing rooms or having to smack away his needy wandering hands while he attempted to steal you from an actual task you had to finish

you two were quickly becoming hopeless and once Soobin actually managed to make you cum while hidden away like that between the wardrobe changes, it was game over for you - nothing would stop him now

and that's how you found yourself in the mess you were in that day - bent over a vanity table in an abandoned changing room, skirt pulled up and tights with panties pulled down, Soobin's face buried in your cunt makeup and all

not that you cared about that when he ate you out like a man starved, tongue pushed as deep into your cunt as it could go and moaning like he was losing his mind with the taste of you.

you knew something was about to go that the moment Soobin stepped out of the changing rooms and immediately booked it to you, the excitement of the big performance getting to him and his blood pumping wildly, discreetly pulling you away from your mindless task of organising table arrangements. you had a feeling others noticed, but thankfully no one commented on it, only grinned to each other and let you two go.

the makeup unnies were going to kill you though, there's no way his face was salvagable now that it was covered in your slick, mascara melting with sweat and tears of pleasure and lipstick smudged all around his mouth and your thighs

Soobin loved nothing more than to bury his face in your cunt, especially here at work where it became a point of pride with how fast he had you falling apart on his tongue, pushing himself to make you cum faster and harder everytime he managed to pull you away from the group

"y-you only have like two m-minutes left" you'd choke out in an attempt to remind him of his responsibilities, but it was all futile when he got his mouth on you - he heard nothing, saw nothing, only you and your pleasure

he'd hum in response, nothing more, and redouble his efforts, loudly sucking on your clit and slurping your juices, mouth alternating between that and fucking you with his tongue until you were a stuttering mess and clenching on the wet appendage, driving the man crazy

and once again he'd prove that two minutes were more than enough, when your orgasm broke over you and hit you like a fucking boulder, knees buckling under your weight while Soobin hungrily licked up your cum until you were whimpering in overstimulation, but you'd never push him away and he knew that

"fuck" he'd say elequently, breathless and turned on and you'd laugh at the desperate look on his face

"you can't go on stage like that" and he truly couldn't, not with pants tenting around his erection, the little wet spot where his precum soaked through masked by the dark colour of the fabric, face wet and slick with your lust and eyes crazed with arousal, pupils blown until he looked drugged on pussy

but he'd just smirk at you, wink and get on the way, immediately getting scolded by the makeup team the second he stepped out of the room. and you'd burn under their amused but scolding gazes for the rest of the afternoon while your boyfriend pushed all that unused energy towards a powerful performance, at least until he could leave and fuck you over the first flat surface he found

divider by @cafekitsune

[diminuel]

Hello‼️‼️ i hope you had a good day/night and u drank enough water :>

Anyways, i have read like many of ur crocodad comics and i adore them but i wanted to ask (i saw another post of urs that was about Luffy still becoming a pirate in this au)

What will happened to Alabasta and summit war?? 😭

Like in Alabasta- yeah we know what happened- like Crocodile stabbing his own son??? But then again Dragon is a revolutionary so maybe he doesn't try to take over Alabasta??

And if he does and things go as the canon how could Luffy feel after his own dad stabbed him for power and shit?? Maybe impel down and summit war is Crocodile's way of saying sorry?? How will their relationship be after that??

Thats all, have a great day :)

Hello~

The circumstances in the Stinky child AU are quite different. Crocodile still wants power because he thinks power is the most effective way to protect what Crocodile wants to protect. He doesn’t want to destroy Alabasta or become its king but that doesn’t mean he’s not part of the reason why Alabasta is sinking into a rebellion.

He does fight Luffy but in the end what options do the both of them really have? Luffy has to win here if he wants to go further, because there are bigger and harder battles ahead. Crocodile wants to see his plan through to get power to protect his child, but since Luffy is now here, right in front of him, it means having to defeat his child now and put an end to Luffy’s ambitions and freedom. Is that worth it? Isn’t that going against everything he wants? So he simply can’t go all out against him and gets defeated.

Luffy is of course torn about it. The idea was that this is necessary, that he needs to overcome obstacles, even if it’s his family. But it puts a crack in his conviction to live without regrets. Because he would have regretted not fighting for Vivi because it was the right thing to do, he would have regretted giving up his dream because he couldn’t fight his father. So it was the right thing to do. But it sucks a lot. And he doesn’t find out that Crocodile was sent to Impel Down until he actually comes faces to face with him. Nobody told him, he just assumes that his grandpa or dad would fix it somehow.

And then Marineford… there’s of course never any doubt that Luffy would free Crocodile and they try to save Ace.

As to their relationship, I don’t think it will deteriorate but both of them have to work through guilt and regret and reevaluating just what their path is and how far they're willing to go for it.

[victormcdicktor]

STOP; Please Help This Family in Ghazzah Survive!

Alaa is a mother of twin boys from Ghazzah; Asser and Majed (4). Their home was destroyed, she and her husband have both lost their jobs, and they've been displaced multiple times since.

They can barely afford basic necessities like food and water, and their health is deteriorating due to heat and surrounding disease. Their tent is also very weak and barely protects from the weather.

Alaa's husband was also previously hard of hearing, and has now lost his hearing completely due to the bombs. His hearing aids ended up getting broken, rendering him deaf until he can get new ones. Of course, with no income and the destroyed medical infrastructure in Ghazzah, he is unable to get them on his own.

In order for this family to support themselves through genocide and eventually evacuate, they need to raise €25,000. So far, they've only raised €9,187 and haven't received any donations in 4 hours.

Please donate if you can and share their campaign; Alaa's husband is living without his hearing and they are constantly struggling to afford things they NEED to live. They deserve whatever support you can give; every bit helps.

SHARED BY BILAL-SALAH0

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Thank you for reading! Please reblog! 🐅💛

[rottingpirate]

Hello!! Is there a second part to the cod MIA reader? If not could I request one? ♥️ :)

No, cause I completely forgot about it 😭

'm sorry, here you go broski

M.I.A. reader who comes back pt. 2

Warnings: typical CoD violence, human trafficking, some angst, kinda ooc

Gaz

Gaz shot upright, gasping and sweaty, tangled up in his bedsheets. Another nightmare. No one else is in the room, no one but him and an empty space next to him. The sun was already shining bright and it slightly hurt his eyes.

Y/N should be here. It's been one week since you've been declared as MIA. So far, there had been no sign of you. No demands had been made, no threats, no body had been found…the silence was eating him alive. 

It was as though you had vanished completely, everyone knew that with each minute that passed, their chances of finding you deteriorated.

Knock knock. Captain Price came into his room. He takes a moment as he surveys the room before sitting down on the bed next to him. Gaz didn't have the patience to wait for him to start the conversation. "Did you find them?" His voice came out as hoarse, rough, probably cause he hasn't left his room in the past few days.

"Yes, we found them," He sounded relieved. Gaz' breathing stopped for a second, he started getting up to reach for his clothes, asking when were they leaving, until Price stooped him "but you're not coming."

"What? Why not? They're my partner."

Price pats him on the shoulder and shakes his head. "You have barely eaten in the past week. You haven't trained nor have you left your room...you need to sit this one out, kid." He wanted to protest. He couldn't stay in his bed and just wait, but the look his captain gave him made him shut up. "Okay...just- bring them back to me, please." Gaz let's out a shaky breath and closes his eyes. You're alive.

The rescue mission took a long time. Longer than Gaz would have liked. He was scared, scared of seeing the state you would be in. He didn't want to think about all the gory and bad images that swirled in his head.

Gaz was staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours and he didn't even realize how he drifted.

When he wakes up, his breath catches in his throat, you're standing there with that dump smile of yours. How long have you been standing there? He could instantly tell that you've been through a tough time, you looked a little bit thinner, your face was littered with bruises and Gaz didn't want to know how the rest of your body was doing. It seemed like you were already taken to the doctor, as you already had a cast on your arm and there seemed to be a lot less blood than he imagined there to be.

He wanted to jump up and hug, to kiss you all over and never let you go and he didn't even realize how he started crying.

You sat down next to him, pulling him into a gentle hug while telling him that everythings all right.

Price

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), please respond!”

Price’s tone was pleading, wanting nothing more than his partner to answer. But, the communications frequency was filled with static. “(Y/N), if you can hear me please, respond….fuck, please” He sounded defeated, the much needed response not coming through no matter how hard he tried to wish for it.

"(Y/N)?” Price’s voice was a low whisper in the end. But no matter how hard he was pleading. Begging. You were not responding.

"We’ll find (Y/N). They’re too stubborn to die,” Soap says, standing next to him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “And if they’re not?” “They’re just missing. We’ll find them,” He assures him. Remembering that only made Price’s heart hurt more. 

For three weeks he waited. Fot three weeks he hardly ate and slept. Three weeks of no messages.

Why Y/N? Why not me?

Y/N could be captured. They could be dead or hurt and waiting for help. You decades of experience under the belt, and the chances of you going down during a mission as simple as this one seem slim, but still possible.

Meanwhile...they took you to the other prisoners. The prisoners that you had to save. You felt deeply ashamed when you realized that he had completely and utterly failed. Completely failed.

It was dim and dirty in the little cell that you were held in.

In these three weeks you have grown a lot closer with the other prisoners. There were two girls, who were about your age and a boy, who was maybe around 17. You weren't physically hurt, but definetly weak. In these past few weeks you barely got any food, sleep, fresh air or water.

141 launched a rescue mission couple days after you went missing, but nothing turned up. But this time, they might have a lead. An old warehouse in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't heavily guarded, and their squad would definetly be able to get past them. He couldn't focus as they began planning the rescue. All he could think of was rushing ahead, jumping in the plane, taking every bastard who had touched you down with his bare hands. 

When they arrived Price was anything but his usual professional self, he came in he stormed through the pile of bodies littering the corridors of whatever this building was, firing shots at anyone not in a guard’s uniform. 

"Found them! Found Y/N!" Ghost shouted through the comms and Price sprinted through the hallways to the location Soap was at.

Price quickly helped you up, while the rest of 141 took care of the other people that were there with you. You were unsteady on your feet as you tried walking to the car. Price suggested he'd carry you, but you protested, telling him that it's okay and you can walk on you own.

Price swore that he would love, protect and be there for you for as long as he lived. There was nothing in this life he wanted more. Nothing was more important than you in this moment.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 1

*Chapter 1 written ahead of season 4 launching, this has been in my head a while ago, so it's amazing to find a scattering of similarities! Though as this will become romantic, it's obviously completely separate from any existing and future storylines.*

River decides, finally, that David needs some help at home, so sets about employing someone to do just that without really thinking of the consequences.

River Cartwright / Original female character (Seren is named, but feel free to insert yourself should you wish).

Masterlist

Chapter 1

River was late, of course. He'd tried to get out earlier, but he'd had to break up a fight between Louisa and Shirley. A full-on argument that had nearly escalated into physical violence and all because they were both stupidly stubborn. They’d patched things up when Shirley slid a cup of coffee onto Louisa’s desk along with the last of the Jaffa Cakes. They’d mumbled apologies and were laughing like nothing had happened when he’d ducked out. He tried not to dwell on his own stubbornness as he drove. He was already dealing with his lateness, and that was enough for right now. There was a small beat-up car parked alongside his grandfather's when he arrived, and the owner was nowhere to be seen, which meant she must have ventured inside. That was far from ideal. He hadn't had much time to broach the delicate subject with his grandfather, but he already knew from past attempts that it wouldn't be well received. The doctor had made the suggestion this time, though, that had to count for something? David had, of course, scoffed at the idea, but then two days later nearly burned the kitchen down whilst cooking dinner. Again. River was at his limit. With work so unpredictable, he couldn't be there when David needed him, and something had to change. He’d been loath to admit it, but then the doctor had passed the number to him, and he figured it was worth a try.

*

She'd answered on the second ring, bright and breezy.

“Hi, hello?”

“Are you… are you the person offering in-home support?” He asked hurriedly, as if his grandfather would overhear him despite the distance between them.

“No, Poppy, not the icing just yet, sweetheart. Sorry, yes, that's me. I'm just with a family at the moment. It's my last day so we're making cakes.”

“Cakes? I didn't know that was part of what you do?”

“Well it depends on the family, really. I've been looking after Poppy's mum, while she recovers from an operation, so this time it's been school runs, helping with homework, general domestic work. My last family before this one I was looking after an elderly couple, cooking, cleaning, administering medicines. My duties are often different depending on the people. I used to just sit and read aloud to one lady.”

“Oh.” He said quietly.

“You're new to this?” She guessed. “That's OK, why don't you let me know your circumstances?”

*

And so here he was, about to be in trouble on all fronts. His grandfather would hate that he was hiring help, and the woman he hired was about to bear the brunt of David's temper and his rapidly deteriorating mind, so of course, she’d end up hating River for that. He braced himself for a frosty welcome. He opened the old oak door with a soft click, trying not to insert himself immediately into the argument which was… not occurring? He moved quietly through the downstairs of the house, following the sounds from the library.

“And now, my dear, you see I have you in check.” His grandfather said, River could hear the smile in his voice. “We also have company at last. Come on in, my boy.” Rumbled. He peered around the door to see a teapot and three cups laid out on the table with two in use, and his grandfather sat across from a woman with the chessboard between them. “This young lady is from the book club at the local library. She’s trying to get me to sign up!” A frown crossed River’s face.

“Well actually,” the woman began,

“Sounds great, grandad. And you're… teaching her to play chess?” River interrupted.

“Exactly that. It's a curious game of logic and passion, everyone should learn it.” David replied gleefully.

“If I could just have a word, Mr Cartwright?” The woman spoke up again.

“Yes?” Both Cartwright gentlemen answered before River took the lead,

“Yes, of course.”

“Always turned by a pretty girl,” David rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for that, Grandad,” he muttered. “I'll put some more tea on?”

“Good man.” David settled back at the table and reviewed the chess board. “Don't go far, young lady, there's still a lot to learn.” The woman followed River to the kitchen where he braced his hands on the countertop with his head down.

“I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry I'm late.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Seren.” She offered her hand, and he shook it.

“Yes, yeah, sorry, that too - nice to meet you, please, call me River. He thinks you're from the library?”

“I did introduce myself, we started talking about books, so I think he must have mixed the conversation up a little. It's no harm, but we should let him know why I'm really here?”

“And we will, for sure, I just… he's… the Old Bastard isn’t going to be happy about this, so I need to do it in the right way. Names and faces are getting harder for him. I’ve lost count how many times he’s nearly burned this kitchen down. He sleeps with a gun by his bed for fucks sake. Sorry.” Seren stayed silent and he prayed to any deity he could think of that she wouldn’t walk out.

“It's best not to prolong the lie, it'll cause more confusion later on. If it helps, I have a lot of experience with this, I’m not scared of the outbursts and moments of confusion and I’ll be right here to remind him of that during his times of clarity.”

“I get that, I do,” he stopped, looking out at the garden. “I don't know how to do this.” He admitted sadly. Seren joined him at the window.

“No one does.” She said softly. “I recommend we start with keeping it very simple, very factual. Explain that you're worried and you think having someone close by will help put your mind at rest.” He nodded in agreement.

“Can't promise it'll go well?”

“I know you can't. Unfortunately, neither can I.” She reasoned. She let him lead the way back to the library where David was still plotting his next move.

“Grandad? I think there's been a mix up. I thought we could do with some help around the house, this is Seren. I’ve asked her to look in on you, maybe make a bit of dinner a few evenings a week.”

“A babysitter?” David’s previously amenable demeanour was gone in an instant.

“No, not… not a babysitter at all. Just some extra help, some company for you?” River held up his hands in surrender.

“Young lady, get out of my house,” David demanded sternly.

“Stay, please Seren.” River implored. The woman looked genuinely torn.

“Let me give you both some space,” she concluded, turning to River. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” He nodded gratefully, the relief that she wasn’t leaving the house entirely was clear to see.

“Grandad, please?” River pleaded once they were alone. The elder Cartwright ignored him, turning his attention to the chessboard again. “I’m worried about you. Fires in the kitchen? A gun by your bed?”

“They’re always watching, we must remain vigilant.” His grandfather said quietly. River dragged a hand down his face.

“No one is watching you.”

“How would you know? Over with the rejects, out of the loop and fussing over parking tickets and unpaid licence fees.” River felt the blow. He’d worked so hard, or as hard as was allowed at Slough House, to prove to David that he was still a capable Agent. Someone who did have a future with the service. His grandfather had never doubted the Stanstead stitch up, in fact it was more proof to him that they were trying hard to erase the Cartwright name, but there was still an unspoken assumption that River could have and should have done more. River felt the pressure of it every day in the offhand comments his grandfather made. And those were only getting more frequent with David’s declining mental capabilities.

“You’re right. I don’t know,” River was forced to admit. “But the thought of you here alone terrifies me and I need you to understand why I’m doing this.”

“I won’t pay her.”

“I will.”

“I won’t speak with her or engage with her while she’s here.”

“Fine, I’ll let her know.”

“I don’t like this, River.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s happening. I’m sorry, but… I can’t take no for an answer on this. I’m giving her a key to come and go as she needs to. Speak to her or don’t, she’ll make sure you have food, she’ll collect your medications, she’ll be here whether you agree or not.”

“I think it’s time you left, don’t you?” David concluded, completing the chess game he’d ultimately ended up playing with himself. River placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he promised. He found Seren in the kitchen, as promised, her head deep in the fridge. She pulled out a few items and threw them into the open bin she’d pulled closer.

“Something stinks in here. I’m just getting rid of anything out of date and I’ll refill it tomorrow.” She told him, grimacing at the smell from the salad drawer. From a quick glance, he could see that the teapot and cups had been washed, the table was clear of clutter and crumbs and the grimey window had been pushed open to let in the last of the day’s sun. He released a long sigh he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in.

“Thank you,” he began, not really knowing what to say. She’d done more in the ten minutes she’d been left alone than David had managed for the last six months or more. He took a key from his pocket, along with his wallet, and started counting out a few twenty pound notes. She closed the fridge and turned back to face him.

“The seal is gone on the fridge door. I’ll get a new one and fit it in the next few days.” She scribbled on a notepad he hadn’t spotted on the table, the makings of a to do list. He could already see clean windows and food shop on the list. He took out another twenty quid.

“This is all the cash I have on me right now,” he explained, holding it out. She took the notes from him, kept twenty and passed the rest back to him.

“This covers the shopping. We’ll work out the rest later.”

“He won’t give you a penny-”

“I know, and that’s fine. I can handle this.”

“He’s going to be mad at you when he’s with it enough to know what’s going on, and he’s going to be mad at you when he hasn’t got a clue who you are or what’s going on.”

“So he’s going to be mad at me. I’ll get over it.” She assured him. He stared at the woman in front of him, a smear of dust on her forehead and her hands on her hips. His grandfather’s comments rang in his ear; always turned by a pretty girl. River sighed.

“Are you sure?”

“Let me do my job, Mr Cartwright.” She told him, taking up her notepad and the key. “I’ll be over in the morning with some shopping, I’ll batch cook some meals and start some household stuff. I’ll keep out of his way unless he needs me for something.” And then she was gone, only the scent of her perfume remaining.

*

It became a ridiculous dance. More often than not, River would arrive in the early evening a couple of times a week to find Seren in one room and David in another. He would go between the two trying to determine whether it had been a good day, a bad day or just a day. By the end of the first week, River was convinced Seren hated him for dragging her into his mess. David wasn't speaking to either of them unless it was to shout at them (separately of course). Eventually River was somewhat forgiven enough that David would at least speak to him but he knew that the same could not be said for Seren. River found himself half dreading and half looking forward to his visits. His grandfather essentially ignored Seren which made for an unwelcoming atmosphere but she'd quickly become the highlight of his day.

“Is that for me?” She asked one month into the role. She'd been standing on a windowsill when he arrived, cleaning what she declared to be the final window. He'd set about making dinner and trying to convince David to at least be cordial. She came down a short time later, gathering up her book, phone, notepad and anything else she intended to take with her to find that River had three meals plated up.

“If you'd like to stay? Thought it might be nice?”

“Nice?” She looked behind her to check that David wasn't in earshot, “River, I have spent a month being ignored when he's lucid and shouted and screamed at when he's not. I've cooked, cleaned and fixed things. In that time he has not spoken a single nice word to me, and that's absolutely fine, that's his choice. But I'm sorry, I don't intend to stay a little longer because you've cooked.” He looked aghast.

“I'm sorry. It was selfish to think that you might want to stay.”

“No, it's… it's not selfish. It was thoughtful of you, thank you. I just can't stick around. I'm not wanted here, that's been made clear. I just want to do my job and go home and drown in the bath.” Images which would likely earn him a black eye filled River's mind.

“Leave the girl alone River, let her go home.” David said entering the kitchen. Seren took a big step back, River hadn’t realised how closely they'd been standing.

“Goodnight.” She mumbled and headed out the back door.

*

Seren rested her head against the steering wheel of her car. For six long weeks she’d been David Cartwright’s metaphorical punching bag. Unwilling to tolerate her presence when he was lucid, he was angry and rude, and then in moments when his memories and mind were not his own, the outbursts were worse. She wasn’t sure which of his personalities she preferred, neither were remotely nice to her. She’d transformed the house, fixed multiple broken household items - the fridge, the floorboard she kept tripping on in the hallway, the plug socket she’d been horrified to see sparks coming out of when she used it. Fortunately it had been a socket David hadn’t bothered using, if he had, she was fairly sure the house would have burned to the ground long ago. The fridge was stocked with easy to heat up meals and snacks, and every single surface and window had been cleaned. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she roused herself to retrieve it. River’s name displayed on the caller I.D.

“Hey, how did it go today?” He asked as soon as she answered. She sighed heavily,

“Yeah, fine. Same as usual.”

“Are you sure? Are you ok?”

“I’m sure.” She said firmly. They fell into silence.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?” He asked. She stayed silent and swallowed thickly, her shaky breath giving away the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Seren, I don’t… is there anything else I can do?” He begged.

“No. We’ll get there, it’s just taking some time. I’m fine, really.” She brushed the tears away, angry with herself for letting the situation get to her, angry with the Cartwright’s for being so stubborn.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” He promised. She hung up without saying goodbye.

*

The next morning she let herself into the house as usual. She called out and made her way to the sitting room to offer a cup of tea, as she had every morning and as he’d ignored every morning. David met her in the hallway, a pistol in his hand pointing directly at her. Her hands went up immediately and she searched his face for whether or not he recognised her.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” He demanded.

“David, it’s Seren, I’ve been helping out for a few weeks? Cooking, making sure you’re taking your medication and stuff like that?” She spoke softly and tried desperately to keep the tremor from her voice and tried to bring down the tension.

“I don’t know you. I don’t want you here.”

“I know, I know. Believe me, that’s an ongoing battle for another time. Can we put the gun down, David, please?” She pleaded. She knew that he was still physically fairly healthy, strong enough to slam doors in her face and throw the odd mug of tea across the room when he so wished. He was at least as tall as River which meant he towered over her by nearly a whole foot. The gun shook in his hand and she began to fear that rather than pull the trigger on purpose, he would do it by accident. She backed up slowly, towards the foot of the stairs and as soon as she had space between them, she ran for the only room she knew had a lock on the door. Age on her side, she slammed the bathroom door as he reached the top step. She pushed the lock into place and dropped down away from the door, crawling under the sink. Her phone was still in the back pocket of her jeans so she dragged it out and dialled the number that had last called her.

“River, he's just pulled a gun on me. I thought you were making shit up before but he has a fucking gun!”

“Shit, shit. Is he… himself?”

“No, he has no idea who I am.” The bathroom door rocked on its hinges as David banged on it, causing Seren to scream down the phone.

“I’m on my way.”

“I need to call the police.”

“No, please, please don’t do that. I’ll be there in an hour. Less than. Stay down, keep the door locked.” He begged and hung up before she could argue. The door stopped shaking. She waited quietly,

“Get out of there before I shoot through the lock!” He bellowed, banging the door again. Seren flinched, hugging her knees. She knew full well it would take longer than an hour unless he broke every single speed limit on the way. Seren was eyeing up the window and trying to work out if she could manage the jump without breaking anything when the door banged again.

“Shit!” David called out, clearly in pain.

“David? Are you ok? What happened?” She asked as gently as she could, crawling back towards the door. She knelt in front of it and listened for movement on the other side. There was nothing but silence. “Shit, shit, shit.” She cursed, there was no decision to make, she knew what she needed to do but still dreaded it. She reached up to slide back the lock and opened the door a crack. David sat in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a bloodied hand in his lap. He looked up at the daylight spilling into the space and saw the tears on her face and the fear in her eyes. “What happened David?” She whispered.

“Oh. Oh my dear girl, I’m not sure,” he sounded confused and scared, no longer imprisoned by his mind, he recognised her. “Seren, I’m not sure what happened.” He admitted. She fell to her knees in relief at hearing him use her name. She moved close to sit by him and gently reached for his hand. A small cut ran from the side of his little finger down towards his palm, nothing serious but with all the banging and commotion it had bled probably a little more than a normal hand injury. He suddenly felt so frail to her and it was heartbreaking.

“It’s ok, I’m here now. I’ll help you get that sorted.” She said softly, carefully and kindly taking his hand.

*

When River appeared 57 minutes later, he had not expected to see Seren and his grandfather enjoying tea and lemon cake in the kitchen. Since the day he'd introduced them he hadn’t once seen them in the same room.

“River, what are you doing here? Should you not be at work?” David asked. River’s eyebrows landed somewhere in his hairline and it took a look at Seren and the barely visible shake of her head for him to recover. He noted the bandage on David's hand.

“Had some time to spare, thought I'd drop in.”

“Never missing out on cake, I see. Seren brought this from the bakery.”

“We can have a walk there tomorrow, if you like? Get something nice for lunch?”

“Now that does sound an excellent idea.” David smiled.

“D'you hurt your hand?” River asked.

“Aye, caught it on a loose hook by the bathroom door. Gave Seren quite a scare when she came out of there.” He explained.

“I'll bet.” River took his time sitting down, using the time to appraise Seren and the scene before him. He could see she'd been crying. She offered a small nod, acknowledgement that she was OK, but the sigh indicated that there was definitely a conversation to be had.

“Why don't I take the tea to the sitting room? You can catch up while I finish cleaning up upstairs. Go ahead Mr C, make yourself comfortable.” She helped him up from the table, he was clearly exhausted by his exertion of the morning. She piled up a tray which River returned for once his grandfather was settled.

“Well?” He asked impatiently.

“Well River, your lovely Pops pulled a gun on me at the front door and ordered me out of the house. I managed to hide in the bathroom where I called you and you begged me not to call the police. I think he scared himself when he cut his hand. It brought him back from,” her hand waved in the air above her head, “wherever. I think he scared himself enough to realise that I might actually be here to help.”

“And the gun?” She passed by him in the narrow space between the table and the counter and opened the freezer, pulling out the handgun.

“Didn’t know where else to put it that neither of us would use it.” She shrugged. “Anything like that happens again, and I'm gone, got it?” River nodded, suddenly grateful that he hadn't come across a crime scene. Even more grateful that Seren hadn't walked out and left them.

Chapter 2

[altocat]

OK HI HELLO TRANSLATION ANON HERE!

Dissidia just destroyed me with the new Angeal chapter. There WERE, in fact, Sephiroth and Angeal interactions and they hurt, I will tell you. I actually almost cried. The angst was incredible.

It’s very hard to translate everything because there was so much dialogue, but I will do my best to summarize below:

So, Angeal is back and he was talking with Cloud’s group, trying to catch up on everything. He seems to have no idea what happened past his death, which makes sense. For now, Cloud is just trying to save Tifa who is in danger with a few other characters.

Angeal helps Cloud and they actually end up facing Sephiroth, who is on his usual “Hahaha eat despair, kids!” BS and is after some energy crystals because power, blah blah. Seph is fighting Cloud and attacking the others like usual, but poor Angeal has no clue why at first.

He very much approaches his old companion with his lecturing “dad friend” tone and says, “Sephiroth, explain yourself! That was crossing the boundaries of just a training exercise!”

He is baffled and says that they were both soliders, wondering if the “company” aka Shinra ordered Seph to attack the others.

Seph just laughs it off and tells Angeal to move out of his way. Angeal is visibly disturbed and asked Sephiroth what’s wrong with his facial expression (presumably Seph’s malicious smirking as usual). Angeal says to not joke around like this, saying he doesn’t understand what’s going on and that Seph seems different—he seems…changed.

The others, mainly Cloud, are trying to tell him that “the Sephiroth of the present” is not the same as the one Angeal knew. They say that present Sephiroth is cruel and unforgiving and that he burned down Nibelheim.

Angeal is very upset and can’t believe it. He shakes his head sorrowfully and saying that Sephiroth was always very selective of the decisions he made, so the idea that he would commit such atrocities is astounding. That’s when Angeal turns around and asks Sephiroth, “Don’t tell me….were you one of them too? Did you deteriorate like Genesis? You too?”

He immediately assumes that it must have been the degradation that made Sephiroth do what he did, but Sephiroth seems to get upset and shakes his head, saying that “they have nothing to talk about!”

(Liar lol).

Angeal goes straight for the elephant in the room and asks,

“Sephiroth…are you angry with me? I’m sorry I disappeared without telling you…but…(referring to “we have nothing to talk about) is your demeanor/behavior towards anyone that asks you for a reason/for answers. Just tell me what happened!”

Basically, Angeal is demanding that Sephiroth explain and communicate instead of just dismissing it. Angeal says this in one fiery swoop, darting at Seph with his sword, and shockingly, he manages to knock the latter back, who gasps in surprise. Angeal can’t believe it and says that Seph is losing his grip, and that it’s very unlike him.

Sephiroth literally says “You’re making me stumble/shake…I need to get rid of you.”

We get the idea that Angeal’s presence is actually messing with Sephiroth and making him weaker…very likely with hesitation. Needless to say, Seph is angered and a battle starts with him saying

“Go away, Angeal. Your presence is discomforting…”

More angst!

Angeal responds,

“Look, maybe we weren’t in the type of relationship where we could confide in each other for everything….but I haven’t stopped thinking about you guys (Seph and Gen), hoping that you at least didn’t turn out like me…so just let me ask you….is there anything I can still do (to help)?”

(I am gonna cry. Angeal nooo).

Cloud yells at Angeal to stop because there is just no way to reach Sephiroth :(

Anyway, they fight and Angeal notes in horror that Sephiroth’s power is extreme and he is way too strong to be degrading. He asks himself,

“Sephiroth…what happened to you? What power is this?”

And now for the angst cherry on top of the whole thing:

Sephiroth gets pissed at the whole thing even more. He says, “Enough!” and goes after Cloud with his usual “Remember me, Cloud” nonsense and tries to charge. Angeal yells for him to wait and jumps in front of Cloud to save him.

Seph’s sword stabs through Angeal’s shoulder and it really looks like this freaks Seph out because he jumps back immediately, presumably in shock. Angeal falls down and is hurt, which prompts the others to ask if he’s okay.

He brushes it off even though he can’t get up yet and shifts his attention to Sephiroth again. His words are so sad…he says,

“I don’t know what to do. Everything has changed so much since then. I know I’m not supposed to now…but I want to stay by your side until the end this time…so please…Sephiroth…just talk to me…”

Guys, I was pretty much crying lol. I will cover the next part in a second ask because this one is too long, but chew on this pain for now. It really stung, this whole chapter…and Angeal breaking down in this scene was hard to see.

Jesus fucking christ.

Jesus H. Christ.

FUck.

FUCK.

[putschki1969]

I read all that drama from that person on the blog, I'll just say as a joke "what did this guy smoke to say all that that didn't make sense to me, honestly" I'll ask you a question, do you think they'll invite Kajiura in the end? Do you think the girls will sing the songs from the next Madoka movie?Whatever happens, I will support you and always love you. It hurts to see how quiet you have been. I forgot to say hello to you. I'm sorry, I hope you are well, dear. Take care of yourself.

Hello there, anon! I'm fine, thank you. Still focusing on the good things. I refuse to give in to all the negativity around me. Everyone who dares to throw insults or accusations at the girls will instantly get blocked by me. There's zero tolerance for this sort of behaviour in my little corner of fandom. So far, this is how I've managed to stay sane.

Ah yes, the whole thing with this blog is pretty crazy. It's no wonder the author deleted everything again. Everyone, be sure to read my DETAILED ANALYSIS here. While some things were certainly rooted in fact, most of it was just speculation and gossip.

As for your questions (please be aware that I don't enjoy speculations so my answers won't be very elaborate):

[D]o you think they'll invite Kajiura in the end? It would be appropriate to invite her. She has been there for some of Kalafina's most important lives so I would want her to experience their reunion live as well. I don't know if it's possible though with the current hostilities between Space Craft and Yuki Kajiura. I am definitely not one of the people who think Yuki needs to have a key role in the production of the concert. The truth is, Yuki has rarely played a huge role in Kalafina's live productions, especially when their live shows became bigger. That's why it baffles me that so many fans seem to believe that this concert will be a total mockery/failure without Yuki's involvement. What I'm trying to say is that I personally don't need her as producer/director but I'd definitely want to see her in the audience or backstage.

Do you think the girls will sing the songs from the next Madoka movie? No idea. I know many fans are quite invested in this particular topic but I don't really care all that much. For the time-being I just want this reunion/tribute live to happen with as little drama as possible. Whether they decide to resume their activities as a group or they go back to their solo work, is entirely up to them. I would like it if they did a few Kalafina lives every once in a while, at a variety of venues, with different productions and arrangements. I certainly wouldn't mind if they started to release new music but I'm still not sure if it would be a good idea to go down that path without involving Yuki Kajiura. I'm afraid 90% of fans would not accept that. I am probably one of the few people who will be supporting Kalafina no matter what. I am pretty sure I would like new music from them even if it wasn't written by YK because my love for Kalafina as a group goes far beyond my appreciation for Yuki Kajiura's music. I just love the girls themselves, their vocals and their harmony. However, if they end up releasing new music written by someone else, it is unlikely to be used in the Madoka movie. I mean, YK is doing the soundtrack so having Kalafina sing a theme/insert song would be a little awkward if she wasn't in charge of the composition. It's possible of course but it would lead to a further deterioration of the situation. Maybe if they manage to clear up some of that tension, a collaboration is possible but right now, I don't see how it would work out. Also, there's a possibility that a song has already been recorded for the movie. Many fans are speculating that the studio picture from a few weeks ago featuring Kaori, rito, Yuriko and Keiko might have been a recording for a big project (based on the fact that everyone is super secretive about it). Guess we have no choice but to wait and see...

It hurts to see how quiet [they] have been. Yes! It's killing me. I really hope that in the upcoming FJS radio broadcast, Yuki will address the matter so people can finally calm down. By now, Yuki must know how much turmoil she has caused with her statement and her follow-up tweets are proof that she's eager to take the heat off. But there needs to be something more substantial and genuine than a couple of half-assed tweets. The way this radio broadcast has been announced out of the blue with only a day for fans to send in questions gives me hope that this is her way of damage control. Ideally, the girls will start posting again as soon as everything has calmed down again. For the concert to be a success, they need to be able to do some proper promo work. We need as many posts and videos as possible! For now, it's just the FC lotteries with the core fan base applying for tickets. Many of us don't need much convincing but there are certainly a lot of other fans who are currently not planning to attend the concert so they need to be won over somehow. Not that I would necessarily want those pseudo-fans to be there but unfortunately, someone needs to fill that 8k capacity venue...

[nahoney22]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a SFW wrecker/reader fic? I had an idea where they're stranded in a blizzard and have to take shelter in an abandoned house, but there's only one bed. Cuddles ensue. Pre or post relationship! Thank you in advance :DD

My Choice is Always

Wrecker X GN!Reader

word count: 2.2k

One Bed? Snow storm? That could only mean one thing.

warnings: lots of fluff! Mutual pining, pre relationship, minor injury to reader and also minor mention of nudity (depends on how you read it though, nothing happens), cuddles and kisses. Gender neutral reader.

authors note: so sorry for the wait anon! Absolute sucker for a share a bed trope.

The frigid air pierced your bones, sending shivers down your spine and causing your lips to chap in the unforgiving gusts of wind. With each step, you battled through a daunting wall of snow, reaching depths of at least seven feet.

Hoth, a planet you had once dreamed of visiting, had become a reality, albeit under less desirable circumstances. This visit was not by choice, nor was it during a time when the planet showcased its awe-inspiring beauty like you had seen on holopictures. Instead, you found yourself in the midst of the worst snowstorm you had ever encountered.

"W-Wrecker," you managed to utter, your teeth chattering uncontrollably, while your arms clung desperately to your coat, offering little respite from the biting cold. "How much farther?"

"Tech said a few more klicks south! You hangin' in there?" Wrecker's voice came through his helmet, the snow mercifully unable to sting his skin like it did yours.

"I've certainly had better days," you responded, a wry laugh escaping your lips. "F-freaking freezing!"

Wrecker emitted a sigh of agreement, adjusting his pace to accommodate your slower stride. It was just the two of you, having split from the rest of the boys and Omega on this stupid mission. All to recover a lost artifact for one of Cid's clients which you knew the pay would be less than adequate. Wrecker however, always caring, frequently checked in on you, a habit you were much grateful for.

You had long been aware of Wrecker's affection for you, and truth be told, you reciprocated those feelings. Strongly. However, you had hoped for a more romantic setting to explore the depths of your connection. Instead, you found yourselves locked in a relentless battle against a blizzard, with no end in sight.

As luck would have it, the situation managed to deteriorate even further. With each step you took, anticipating the soft cushion of snow beneath your feet, you instead encountered an unforgiving thick slab of ice. Slipping on it, it sends you hurtling forward with your ankle twisting uncomfortably upon impact.

A cry of pain escaped your lips, immediately drawing Wrecker's attention. "What happened? Are you okay?" Wrecker's eyes darted over you, his worry palpable is his tone.

You gritted your teeth, clutching your injured ankle as if it would dull the throbbing pain. "I'll survive," you sighed, though the lack of conviction in your voice betrayed you. "But I think I've sprained my ankle."

Wrecker muttered a quiet curse under his breath and contacted the rest of the team to inform them of the situation. Kindly, they did ask about your well-being, but you had no choice but to admit that for you to continue with this mission was a no-go.

"I've marked your location, and there's a settlement just east of where you are now. It should provide shelter for the night," Tech relayed calmly. "Given the treacherous conditions, it's best for all of us to find a place to stay until morning."

"I agree with Tech," Hunter's voice chimed in through the transmission. "We can't push through this weather any longer. Let's all find shelter for the night."

And so, that became the new plan. The only problem was that you couldn't exactly move forward at all.

"I've got you," Wrecker responded to your unspoken thoughts however, his large hands sliding underneath you as he effortlessly lifted you into his arms.

Despite the unpleasant weather and the pain throbbing in your ankle, you couldn't help but find this gesture somewhat romantic. "Are you sure you want to carry me? We don't even know how f-far this place is!" You shouted over a fierce gust of wind that felt like a slap to your face.

Wrecker chuckled behind his bucket, adjusting his grip to secure you more comfortably. "I'll always carry you when you need it."

A swarm of butterflies erupted in your chest at his words, but fortunately, you were already in his arms, sparing you from a potentially embarrassing swoon on the ground.

After a few minutes of walking, you both caught sight of a sizable structure in the distance, undoubtedly the shelter Tech had pinpointed. Wrecker forcefully and of course impressively kicked open the door, to which was already partially unhinged.

The building appeared weather-beaten and worn, but it offered much-needed shelter. Carefully setting you down, you steadied yourself against the wall while he quickly gathered chairs, dressers, and a table to barricade the door, ensuring as much protection and security as possible.

"Maker, it's colder in here than out there," you shivered even despite the absence of wind and snow.

Fortunately, your eyes landed on something promising—a fireplace. "Don't suppose ya have anything to light it with?" Wrecker inquired. You rummaged through your damp coat pockets, and to your relief, you found a box of matches.

"H-here," you replied through chattering teeth, tossing the matches to him. Wrecker effortlessly caught them, crouching down in front of the fireplace to ignite a flame.

"That should warm things up," he stated, rising to his feet and removing his helmet, placing it aside and rubbed his hands together in front of the crackling fire. You nodded in agreement, and his gaze shifted to you, filled with concern. "You look freezing, cyare." You tried to ignore the endearment, but a flush spread across your cheeks, conveniently attributing it to the cold.

"I am," you dryly laughed, as he approached you and gently guided you toward the fire with his arm around your waist. He fetched an old dusty chair and helped you sit down. "Thanks, Wrecker." You smiled up at him but frowned when realising that there was only one chair available— the one you occupied—while the other was pressed against the door. So, Wrecker settled himself on the floor.

"Is that comfy down there? We can switch if you want."

"Nah, don't be silly. I'm alright!" Wrecker grinned up at you, rubbing his hands together by the fire. Then, he carefully gestured toward your ankle. "Is your ankle alright? You should take your boots off, I bet your socks are wet."

He was right. As soon as he mentioned it, a tingling sensation spread through your feet, prompting you to waste no time in removing your snow-dusted boots and socks. "That's better," you whispered to yourself, relishing in the warmth that enveloped your toes as they bathed in the heat of the fire. You watched as Wrecker took your socks and boots, placing them near the flames for them to dry. You eventually removed your coat too, seeing no benefit in keeping something drenched in snow covering your body.

"I hope the others found some shelter," Wrecker voiced after a comfortable silence. You suggested he try contacting them, but sadly, there was no signal to be found.

"We should try again in a bit, or wait for them to contact us first," you suggested, your hand gently resting on Wrecker's shoulder, offering reassurance as you noticed the hint of nervousness on his face when there was no reply. "I'm sure they'll be alright."

"Yeah, you're right," Wrecker replied softly, finding solace in the warmth radiating from your touch that seemed to charge his entire body.

Seizing the opportunity, you surveyed the small room, which consisted of an open space with a modest but now dusty lounge area centered around a fireplace, a tiny kitchen with stripped and empty cupboards, and one large bed nestled in the corner.

Wait. Pause. One bed?

"Wrecker, there's only one bed," you nervously pointed out, preemptively addressing the potential awkwardness to save any embarrassment later on.

Wrecker leaned back, his gaze shifting between the bed and you. "Uh, I can stay on the floor if you want?"

You quickly shook your head, earning an amused raise of his eyebrow at your eager rejection. It made you slightly embarrassed, but given your intuition about the mutual feelings between you, maybe sharing a bed wasn't such a bad idea after all. "Don't be silly," you finally responded, clearing your throat as your arms instinctively hugged your trembling body. "The bed is big enough for both of us. And it'll be... erm... extra warm."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Wrecker's lips, his eyes lighting up with a mix of gratitude and anticipation. "Alright, if you say so," he replied, his voice carrying a subtle hint of excitement.

Together, you both prepared for the night, a mix of nervous anticipation and comfort intertwining in the air. Stripping out of your wet clothes felt somewhat vulnerable, but you both understood the need for dry garments in the morning. To your relief, Wrecker's gaze held no trace of objectification, only warmth and understanding.

After setting your clothes out to dry by the crackling fire, you hopped your way toward Wrecker, mindful of you ankle, who had pulled back the sheets on the bed, managing to find some extra linens in one of the dressers.

"It ain't much, but it should do," he said, offering a genuine smile as he settled onto the bed. The creaking of the mattress accompanied your weight as you pulled the covers close and sighed. "Not too shabby, to be honest," you commented, snuggling into your pillow and gazing up at the dull ceiling, aware of the impending intimacy of sharing a bed with Wrecker for the night.

"Man, I'm starving!" Wrecker groaned, his stomach rumbling in agreement.

"Hunter always tells you to pack some rations," you teased, smirking up at him, knowing full well that he hadn't stocked up before the mission.

He rolled over, his eyes meeting yours. "Oh, yeah? Where are yours then?" Your smirk faded, and you playfully swatted his arm.

"Shut up." Okay, so maybe you were guilty of forgetting to pack rations too.

The two of you embraced the comfortable silence, maintaining a respectful distance as you listened to the sizzling fire drown out the howling wind outside. The others had yet to make contact, but you hoped for a response in the morning.

"Can I tell you something?" you blurted out, your mind swirling with ifs and buts.

Wrecker turned his head, nodding, his gaze filled with gentleness. "Always."

A smile tugged at your lips at his reply, and it took a moment for you to gather your thoughts. "I hate Cid," you confessed, the weight of your words lifting as they hung in the air.

Wrecker's smile widened, and a hearty laugh escaped his lips. "With all the bickering ya do, I could never tell," he teased, earning a playful eye roll from you.

"But," you continued, fidgeting with your hands beneath the covers, your heart racing, "I'm kinda glad she assigned us this mission."

Wrecker studied your face, his eyes filled with understanding. While some might consider him slow to pick up on certain things, he had an innate sense that allowed him to decipher the unspoken. "Yeah," he spoke softly, his usually booming voice now a tender rumble, "I'm kinda glad too."

Your gaze shifted to him, drawing closer as his arm enveloped your shoulder, tracing small circles on your skin. "I think I'd always choose to be stuck in a snowstorm with you, Wrecker," you murmured, closing your eyes as the comforting warmth of his body washed over you.

His eyes closed as well, pulling you a little closer. The sensation of your bodies pressed against each other filled you both with euphoria. "You’re so warm," you whispered, and without thinking you placed a kiss to his arm that you nestled into.

And without hesitation, Wrecker whispered, "You missed my lips."

You open your eyes, already seeing him look at you as the weight of his words lingered in the air only for a short amount of time until the tension became unbearable.

The room is filled with a gentle warmth as you gaze into each other's eyes, the world outside forgotten. You lean in, capturing his lips with you own and savoring the taste and the tender connection that has formed between you. Your hand caresses his cheek, feeling the roughness of his scars beneath your fingertips. In response, Wrecker's arm wraps around your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

As the kiss lingers, you can feel the electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a fire within you in this blizzard. His touch, his embrace, sends shivers down your spine, not from the cold, but from the sheer intensity of the moment.

When you finally part, breathless and filled with a newfound sense of closeness, Wrecker's eyes meet yours, his voice filled with sincerity. "I've always wanted to do that," he admits, his dazed eyes glowing with a mix of emotions.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips as you tease him. "Is 'always' your favorite word today?" you ask, planting another subtle kiss on his lips.

He chuckles, his hand gently kneading your waist, his touch both tender and possessive. "I suppose it is," he admits, relishing in the feeling of having you lying beside him. He showers you with soft kisses, peppering your hair, the side of your head, and any available space on your face. "Always wanted to be beside you, always wanted to kiss you," he whispers, his words barely audible.

Your heart swells with affection as you intertwine your fingers with his. "Always you."

More wrecker works

Masterlist

Tags + those who I think will appreciate some Wrecker love: @theawkwardartist12 @moon-wrecked @unknownforknown @nimata-beroya @littlemissmanga @merkitty49 @l-lend @wreckers-wife@kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @the-good-shittt @imalovernotahater @crystal076 @blustalker @s1st3r @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 3: The Lucky Day

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of an eating disorder and depression, please read with caution as topics may be triggering.

a/n: Alexa, play Daddy's Home <3 Anywho, OC's spiralling summer was inspired by Bella's montage of passing seasons in Twilight ... I'm sorry, but I need to preface that OC will be going through it this whole season, I have already cried thrice. Also, a side question, can you guys actually play the songs I post for these chapters? Meaning, does Tumblr let yall do that or am I trippin? Because I truly think they add a lot to the overall experience. If not, please let me know, then maybe I'll just turn them into a Spotify playlist.

Sleep has become my escape. A temporary withdrawal from reality in which I live to remember everything Jungkook has forgotten. Sleeping through each passing day, I know that at least in my dreams we are still together. In my dreams, I will always find my way back to you, Koo. Even if you don’t remember it, the moon knows that we were once in love. It hears my helpless cries at night and feels every atom of my being that misses you, fearing the idea of us becoming strangers once again. 

It’s as if my happiness was erased with his departure. Holding my hand through each step of the way, he showed me the beauty in life and ended up being the one to take it all away when my fearing heart failed to reciprocate the painfully obvious love tethered between us. Now, my life is dull and pointless. How can I love someone else when every night I dream of you, Koo?

Swallowing pills to mute the sound of my heart beating for his barest touch, I’ve become lost in my own mind, haunted by everlasting thoughts. Although I thought I would be able to at least pretend to be happy for the sake of my family, it’s all become too much. Thus, it was only a matter of days, before my deteriorating behaviour sparked concern in my parents, fueling tension in the air we shared. It all started with fatigue, which then transformed into chronic sleep and in the end began to affect my eating habits. Feeling nauseous from the mere thought of food, I’ve grown to dissociate myself from it. I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat. And, as my hope slowly diminished, so did the number on the scale. 

“Mira, you have to eat,” my mom’s voice echoes in my ear as my eyes fixate on the plate of steamed broccoli in front of me. 

“I’m not hungry, I told you,” I sigh, swallowing down the lie with some water. 

“Mira, honey, please talk to us. What’s wrong?” my dad asks softly, placing his hand on top of mine. Hearing the trembles in his words, my eyes swell with tears before I shake myself out of it.

“I’m fine … just feeling a bit under the weather,”

“The sun has been at its highest peak this whole time, what’s seasonal about this?” my mom tries to remain composed as she shifts her chair closer to mine. 

“Talk to me, honey. What’s gotten into you? You were so excited to come back,” her hands caress my tangled hair as I nibble on the dead skin on my lip. 

“Mira, you’ve been silent since you came, and now you won’t even eat. Your mom and I can’t bear to see you like this,” 

“Come back home, Miraya. We can find another university here,”

“No. It’s not that. I’m fine, I swear. I just … I just need this break to end already, so I can focus on my studies again. That’ll keep my mind occupied,” I whisper softly, attempting to fake a smile as my empty gaze searches their scattering eyes. Recently, that's how most of our conversations ended. With helpless promises feeding my delusions. However, with each passing day, I come to realise that promises are nothing more than sweet lies. If it weren’t true, I wouldn’t have to find excuses for the aching feeling in my heart, but rather, melt in the overflowing passion of Jungkook’s burning love. 

Excusing myself, I throw away the cold plate of food and head back to my room, one which was once filled with laughter and a carefree sense of ambition. The same walls that watched me cry out of happiness upon receiving my acceptance letter just a few months ago are the ones that now echo my pathetic cries for help. Every inch of this room has become cold and numb, and I’m afraid that there is no more warmth in me that could fix this. 

Crouched in a fetal position as my body shivers under the floral duvet my mom gifted me as a welcome present, I dial Jimin’s phone number. It has been weeks since he moved back to Busan, but I have yet to receive any updates from him about Jungkook. In hindsight, maybe, it’s for the best, but if silence is the thing that'll save me then why do I still hold onto the smallest glimpse of hope for us? Even if it means walking across a minefield of rejected possibilities that would ultimately send me into a never-ending spiral, why do I still care?

“How is he?” I ask with hesitation. 

“Different. He’s different.” Jimin replies softly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, he seems distant. Which is fair, I guess. But, he doesn’t quite seem to remember me,” 

“At all?” my voice shakes as I choke up. 

“Well no, he is still able to recover our memories from when we were kids, but recent events are very blurry,” Jimin goes on. 

I, was recent to Jungkook. We, were recent to him. Four months, that's how long I've known Koo, but I’ve been missing him for the last seven. Each day I daydream, reminiscing our memories, feeling the void in my heart knowing that I’ve been without him longer than I’ve been with him. Maybe, Mrs. Jeon was right. I would be lying if I said that a little part of me didn’t think that the reason for her ultimatum was purely based on a simple dislike of me. You know? Like, she didn’t see me as a good match for her son? Because, even then, her disapproval of my character would have been an easier pill to swallow than knowing that now, in Koo’s empty eyes, I’m no longer his Peaches, but a stranger. God, it hurts to even say it out loud let alone accept it. I can’t accept it, but I have to now, don’t I?

“Please take care of him for me Jiminah,” I manage to let out, wiping the tears rolling down my face. 

“I will Mira, don’t worry. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“See you,” I end the call, throwing my phone across the bed, my puffy eyes irritated by the brightness. 

That night was especially hard. Although my body was desperately wanting to succumb to the exhaustion, my mind wouldn't shut up. It kept replaying our memories, reminding me of the things I should have said. The words Koo never heard, but deserved to.

--

Hugging my mom, her trembling hands tighten their hold on my sweater as I take in the smell of her perfume for the last time. I missed her a lot, and the guilt of putting my parents through that torture has been eating me alive this whole summer. All they wanted was to see their daughter smile and I failed to fulfill even the simplest of their wishes. If only they knew how much I wanted to smile again. 

“Mira, I’m telling you again, we can find another university here,” my mom says with teary eyes. 

“Just say yes, and we’ll deal with all the transfer stuff, honey,” my dad joins, caressing my palms, as I let out a soft chuckle before shaking my head no. 

“That’s not fair. You guys didn’t raise a quitter,” I manage to let out, feeling my throat tighten from the build-up of emotions. 

“You’re right, we didn’t. But, even the strongest soldier needs a shoulder to cry on. Remember that we are and always will be by your side, Miraya,”

“Call us as soon as you land, love,” 

Passing through the airport security, I wave to my family my last goodbyes before heading to my gate. Am I excited to come back to Seoul? I don’t really have a choice, do I? That God-awful Nursing degree won’t finish itself, so yeah, I kind of have to go back. But, I know that school isn’t the only thing pulling me back. I know I can’t, but I still wish to see Jungkook, even from afar, it doesn’t matter. All I want now is to know that he is doing well.  

I’m not sure how, but as soon as my head rested against the seat my body shut down, falling into a much-needed sleep. I probably would have slept through the whole 12-hour flight if it weren’t for the bright beams of sunlight penetrating through my heavy eyelids. Taking a glimpse out the airplane window, I no longer saw snowy mountains but rather blossoming fields of greenery scattered within the busy cities of Korea. And, as the captain went through his ending speech, a flood of international students lined up near the exit, eager to get back into their previously established routine. It’s funny because I was sitting next to one of my cohort members from last semester, but we were both too tired to even realise. 

Nonetheless, putting my passport and ticket back into my carry on, I rolled my luggage down the escalator before a familiar voice called out my name. Searching the crowd of strangers filled with overwhelmed emotions, my eyes stop at a particular boxy smile. 

“Long time no see, Flip-flops!” Tae shouted across the hall, before waving me down to where he was standing with Jiah and Jimin who were just as excited about my arrival. Feeling my eyes swell with tears, I couldn’t help but laugh at his cute, little dance as he pulled me into a warm hug. 

“Tae, I’m certain you just don’t know my actual name,” I say with a grin, looking up at his sparkling eyes. 

“Of course, I do MJ,” he grins, rubbing the top of my head. Ha ha ha, isn’t he just a comedian? For context, my government name is Mira Jean … hence, the birth of MJ. 

“That’s enough, let us hug her too,” Jiah chuckles, opening her arms as my body virtually melts into her embrace. With tears rolling down our faces, her grip tightens around my form as she lets out a sudden gasp. 

“Mira! My goodness, why are you so small?” she asks with a concerned tone, her wide eyes scanning my body. Although, I always managed to maintain my normal weight, I guess, not eating properly for 3 months left its mark on the way I looked. As the numbers on the scale decreased, I became more and more fixated on the protrusion of my bones. I hated the feeling, but, I also couldn’t stop. Because I couldn’t get myself to eat, I relied on baggy clothes to create an illusion that would satisfy people’s perception of me. Unfortunately, I failed to fool Jiah as she saw right through the act. 

“I just stopped eating so much junk food, I’m fine. Trust me, this is a good thing Jiah, now I can finally fit into my favourite pair of jeans,” I try to laugh the pain away, caressing her hands as her furrowed eyebrows slowly release their tension. She isn’t convinced but also, doesn’t want to create a scene in public. I know that follow-up questions will be brought up along the way, but for now, my attention is focused on looking for someone who I know isn’t there. It’s silly, but before spotting Tae, a little part of me hoped to see Jungkook. To witness his sparkling doe eyes and bunny teeth, once again, like the good old times.  

“Okay, it’s settled, we are all going to my favourite Korean BBQ place,” Jimin exclaims, giving me a quick wink before grabbing both of the luggage out of my hands, and handing one to Tae. And, as Jiah intertwines her hands with mine, we exchange soft smiles exiting the airport as my skin finally feels the fresh, humid air of Seoul. Stopping mid-walk, I let out a deep sigh of relief. I hated every second of my summer, it was nothing short of pure torture but, at least, it too passed. 

“You’re good?” Tae whispers, softened gaze focused on my flushed cheeks. 

“Yeah,” I say softly, taking another deep breath as his arm caresses my shoulder. 

“He’s fine, Mira,” his words pierce through my ears as I unconsciously shoot him an alarming look. 

“You’ve heard from him?” I rush my words, anticipating his answer as my chest heaves up. 

“No, but I can feel your pain,” his tone is quieter now, eyes still searching mine. 

“I’m fine, Tae,” I mumble under my breath, lowering my head in fear of breaking down in front of them. 

“Just know that I’m always here for you, okay?” he says, pressing a soft kiss on my head before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. If only he could hear the way I’m screaming inside. The way I’m calling out for help. For someone to find hope in my hopeless state of mind. If only he knew how much I miss Jungkook. 

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Following the tradition, I will be hosting my annual house party before school beats all of our asses,” Jimin chuckles, caressing Jiah’s hand as their eyes focus on each other. Forcing down some dumpling soup into my system, I feel nauseous, but can’t risk growing Jiah's suspicion more, so I attempt to eat as little as possible without her noticing. 

“So, Mira, please come. Jungkook will be there as well,” Jimin continues with a soft smile which slowly fades upon noticing my gaze drop. Letting go of my spoon, my fingernails dig into my cold palms, as I’m back at square one. How am I supposed to face him when I can’t even handle the mere mention of his name? It’s not fair. None of them know about Mrs. Jeon’s ultimatum, and I fear that I can’t just simply tell them. So, I gulp down the pain and manage to put on another act, one that I seem to have mastered over the summer. 

“Mira, you’re okay?” Jiah asks, gently rubbing my forearm. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit jet-lagged. Sure, of course, I’ll come,” I reply with a reassuring smile, before looking at Tae. I recognize the sadness in his eyes because I see it in my own every passing minute. But, I can’t let him in. I can’t betray Mrs. Jeon’s trust, again. Even if it means that I have to betray my own heart.

--

We’ve been walking around the mall for probably 3 hours now and Jiah has yet to find something with that wow factor, meanwhile, I have already found 4 of the nearest exits. The party is set for tonight, and although I have already agreed to come, I can’t get myself to actually face the consequences. I can’t go, what was I thinking. What? Did I think everything was going to be fine once Jungkook saw me? Mira, he doesn’t remember you. 

“Jiah, you know, I really don’t think I should go tonight?” I say, slowly walking in circles as she eyes another mini dress. 

“What? Why?” she stutters, going through racks of possible options. 

“I’m just not feeling well,” I lie, fiddling with my fingers to calm down the nerves. 

“Mira, is something wrong?” Jiah stops what she’s doing before walking closer to my anxious self. 

“I’m fine, really,” I lie again. 

“You don’t look fine. You barely eat, barely sleep, barely talk to me,” she exclaims with a  tone firmer than before. 

“Then stop looking. Please, can everyone just leave me alone? I’m just tired, okay?” I burst, feeling everyone’s eyes on my distressed self. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. What do you need?” she says gently, reaching out her hands.  

“I just need space,” I whisper, crossing my arms in front of my burning chest. 

“Fine, I’ll give you some space. Please call me when you’re ready,” Jiah’s words cut deep as she walked out of the store, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The ones I’ve been trying to run away from this whole time. I can’t even get mad at her. She is only trying to help, but how can she when I keep shutting everyone out? It’s all my fault, I know. I just hope that this isn’t how it ends. I hope I don’t push everyone away, and someone sees right through the mask I put on. Because I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do or who to talk to.

Locking the door behind me I plop onto my bed before finally resting my heavy eyes. And, within minutes, I’m passed out again. I think, I've grown to become eternally tired, no matter how much I sleep, there is just no end to this fatigue. Moving restlessly, I pull the white cover over my shivering body before hearing my phone ring. 

“Ugh, what is it now?” I grunt, squinting from the screen brightness as a small gasp escapes my parted lips. It was 8 pm already. How is that possible? I swear, I just laid my head. But, no, apparently I’ve been asleep for the last 5 hours. 

“Hello?” I manage to let out. 

“Flip-flops? Where are you?” Tae screams through the loud music in the background. 

“Tae, I’m home. What happened?” 

“Mira hurry, Jiah is drunk. You need to come pick her up,” he exclaims with panic in his voice. 

“What? Where’s Jimin? Can he not drive her?” I stutter, lifting myself off of the bed before putting my hoodie back on. 

“You want him to drive under the influence? Of course, he is drunk too,” 

“Well, why can’t you drive them?” I whine, almost pleading. 

“Who said I wasn’t drunk either?” he chuckles, sending me a flying kiss through the phone. 

“Fine, I’ll be there in a bit. Keep an eye on Jiah,” I sigh before grabbing my keys and ID. 

Thankfully, Jimin’s place wasn’t that far from our dormitory so, the ride there was only 10-ish minutes. Nonetheless, I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. And, as the driver finally pulled up to the apartment complex I practically ran inside. Following the sound of loud music, I made my way through the crowd of people who clearly had a little too much fun, as the alcohol in their system could be detected from the next block. 

“Flip-flops!” Tae exclaimed with a big grin. Stopping in my tracks, my eyes diverted to Jiah, who was standing beside him with absolutely no sign of a hangover. In fact, she looked better than ever in her new mini-dress. 

“What? You lied?” I snap, eyebrows furrowing more and more with each step I take towards them. 

“How else was I supposed to get you to come?” Tae chuckles, trying to rub my head before I push his hand away. 

“Get off me,” my tone is harsh as I lower my piercing gaze, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Oh! Mira, there you are,” I could hear Jimin’s voice getting closer before turning my flushed face. And with that, it felt like time stopped altogether. There was nothing and no one in the room except for him and I. Koo and I. Feeling my gaze soften, I choke up from the rush of emotions in my throat. 

“Hi, I’m Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a warm smile, reaching out his hand as if meeting me for the first time. Before replying, I take a moment to analyze his face. The one I dreamed about every night and the one that caused me so much pain. He looks the same, except, his eyes no longer sparkle like they used to. I guess, we got that in common. 

“Hi …I’m Mira,” I let out a soft smile, before reaching out my own hand. 

“Yah, Kook, you already know her, you guys were best friends,” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, please forgive me. I'm still trying to piece everything back together,” Koo says, covering his mouth before shutting his eyes from embarrassment. 

Feeling my throat tighten, I quickly excuse myself, before rushing out of the packed room towards the nearest fire escape. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but why does it feel like I’m going to pass out? It’s as if all the air was knocked out of my lungs. Feeling lightheaded I hold onto the railing and close my eyes for a moment. I can’t believe it. Koo, I saw you but you didn’t see me. You saw a stranger. And, suddenly, there I was, alone again, realizing that everything I feared had come true.

Regaining my composure, I decide to walk back to the party before my eyes are met with his. 

“Not a party animal, huh?” Jungkook grins, stopping in his tracks as his arm leans against the wall. 

“It’s my day off,” I let out a small chuckle, unable to keep his eye contact. 

“So … we were best friends?” he asks softly, hands fidgeting with the chains on his belt. 

“Yeah …” I nod slightly, nibbling on my lips. 

“It’s funny because I don’t remember anything from last year. I could barely recognize my own dad for a while. Jimin helped me a lot, he basically recalled sparknotes of my past for me,” he laughs. Oh, how I missed his laugh.  

“You really don’t remember anything?” I finally look up, searching his scattering eyes. 

“No, not one bit,” his muffled words are interrupted by the growling sound coming from my stomach, as I let out an awkward smile. 

“Oh, are you hungry?” he grins, bunny teeth on full display, as my gaze softens again. 

“No, no, no, I’m fine. I think I’m gonna head home now,” I shake my hands, zipping my hoodie before attempting to walk past him. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll drive. I’m starving as well,” Jungkook assures, gently pulling onto the fabric as my heart sinks to my feet.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I agreed. I couldn’t say no to Koo. Not, after all the sleepless nights I’ve spent missing his mere presence. And, as we entered the nearest restaurant, everything felt real. He felt real. Even if he couldn’t feel it, my heart was beating for the both of us. For our first hellos, last goodbyes and everything in between. Just for tonight, I wanted to pretend like nothing happened. 

“Oh, look, Mira, they have a special deal on shrimp dumplings, do you like them?” his voice, brings me back to reality as I mute the thoughts running through my head. 

“Yeah, my mom made them for me all the time when I was little,” I smile. 

“Then, I guess it’s your lucky day,” he chuckles with a satisfied grin, before calling one of the waiters. 

“I guess, it is,” I say softly, feeling my throat tighten as I struggle to swallow the lie. Searching his naive eyes my own swell with tears while my body shifts restlessly in the seat. Desperately wanting to cave into the emotions, my mind is haunted by the thoughts of Mrs. Jeon’s letter. And, as I close my eyes for a moment, all I can see are the painful reminders of our enforced distance. Don’t call … Don’t write … Don’t interact. Yet, here we are, here you are, Koo. Live in the flesh, separated by a table and the forgotten story of our past. So close, yet so far that it physically hurts. To him, I’m just another piece of the puzzle that would fill the void in his memories. But, to me, he is the only piece that could make me whole again. 

Previous l Index l Next

[juminies]

leave the light on

a not-quite-impromptu reunion of old friends

♡ — post-jumin good end, mostly just jumin and jihyun being jumin and jihyun—some tension and some love.

read on AO3

☀︎

“Did you forget something, dear?” Jumin calls just out of eye shot of the door.

The man currently in the doorway clears his throat. The situation doesn’t quite call for a joke about being mistakenly called dear. “It’s me.”

Jumin walks into the room and his eyes grow noticeably wider as he registers who the ‘me’ standing in front of him is. He scans them cautiously from head to toe, as though he expects to find something catastrophic awaiting him there. “Jihyun?”

“Hello. Security recognised me and let me in. Sorry it’s been a while.”

“V.” A correction, maybe. Jumin pushes at the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. “It’s good to see you. What happens to be the occasion? We’ve barely heard from you since the wedding.”

“Ah. Yes. Sorry about that,” V says. He nervously taps against the neck of the bottle in his left hand, a red wine the pair used to indulge in often before inside-outside forces dragged them apart.

“I thought you were away,” Jumin tells him.

“I was. I had some free time though, so I thought it would be nice to come back and visit.”

Jumin raises an eyebrow. “Did you see my wife on your way in?” he asks.

“I can’t say I did.”

“I see. She just left for a few hours, coincidentally.”

There is already tension lingering, far too much of it, easily strung up by the silence in the penthouse. The last time they had stood together in this room was the day before the last party, on less than ideal terms. The last time they drank together alone was close to two years ago, as what could prove to be entirely different people. Neither man steps closer, as if some ragged fusion of time and carefully omitted truth and lacking urgency holds the other out of arm’s reach.

“I brought wine,” V says, holding up the bottle. His hand appears to shake ever so subtly as he does; it would have gone unnoticed by anyone less detail-oriented than Jumin. “I assume you still enjoy this one?”

“Of course,” Jumin tells him. “It reminds me of you, after all. Let me fetch some glasses.”

The space remains between them as Jumin heads to the kitchen and decreases only physically as V sits down in the armchair and Jumin takes his usual place on the sofa.

Conversation does not open as naturally as V had hoped. He has a tendency to forget Jumin’s gravitation to small talk when it comes to people he hasn’t seen for some time—a taught behaviour that has only grown to fall naturally upon him when thrust into what, admittedly, is a somewhat uncomfortable situation. V also has a tendency to avoid sharing details of the goings on in his life as a measure to prevent anyone other than himself coming into harm’s way, and these things in tandem do not piece together too well. As a consequence he mostly lets Jumin answer his own questions, listening keenly to him talk about the latest developments at C&R, about his honeymoon, about his wife.

Then comes a topic that cannot be deflected: “How are your eyes?”

V digs a fingernail into the arm of the plush chair he’s sat in, leaving a small mark in the cushion. He leans to pick up his glass from the coffee table to stall as he turns over the question in his mind; performs a swift but careful examination of it as though it's the brush strokes of an oil painting. “The circumstances aren’t ideal, but they haven’t deteriorated any more since we last spoke.”

Jumin hums noncommittally as if he expects more, and if he sees through the lie his expression does not give him away.

“I have very little sight at all in my right eye and no peripheral vision in my left. I’m just grateful I can still take pictures for now,” V adds. He punctuates his admission with a solemn half-laugh as he gently smooths a finger over the mark in the chair he made with his nail.

“I would still think it best that you make a legitimate inquiry about having surgery to heal them,” Jumin says. “It would be a shame were you to lose your vision entirely. Our wedding photographs were beautiful thanks to you. Retrospectively I find it difficult to believe that I could have so much as considered trusting someone else with the duty.”

V smiles softly and crosses his arms over his chest sheepishly. “If nothing else I’m glad I could be of service in that regard. You both deserved beautiful photographs.”

“You are doing me a service merely by being a friend. I can only hope that you consider it—the surgery, that is.” A bulb in the lamp across the room flickers and Jumin glances over to it. His face remains wholly unreadable. “For a friend, if not for yourself.”

V nods, tight lipped, and raises his glass to his chin. “I will consider it.”

He is rewarded with a sincere (and relieved) thank you.

The conversation gets easier after that, as though it had served as a reminder of the profound trust the pair have for one another. A bottle of wine is drained quickly and the gap between them closes in tandem; any bitterness brewing subsides. Though there had often been one thing or another to mull over—it’s in their nature to undershare—no feelings between Jumin and Jihyun had ever so much as begun to bleed through into resentment, and now is no different. Instead apprehension turns to laughter and agitation to playfulness. Between the two of them they hold enough admiration for the other to fill oceans.

“You know, V,” Jumin starts after some time, gently swirling his wine—the first glass from a second bottle that he claimed he had been saving for a special occasion. “I thought it very odd that my wife should opt to go out alone on the evening of my day off.”

V’s vision renders him oblivious to the mischievous glint in Jumin’s eyes. “Yes. Strange, I suppose.”

“And you brought wine to a supposed impromptu visit?”

“I bought it nearby,” V says. Then, with a touch of sarcasm, adds, “Would you prefer that I show up empty handed next time?”

“Not that I doubt your credibility, but…” Jumin leans forward and turns the now empty bottle that V had brought along so that he can see the label, then presses his finger against the name of a French town printed in grey cursive. “No local stores sell this variety,” he finishes, amused. “She put you up to this, did she not?”

The shift of V’s expression is enough of a confirmation in the eyes of a man who’s known him for twenty years, but Jumin doesn’t say as much. He leans back again, crossing one leg over the other, and Jihyun can’t help but break into a grin. “Put me up to this?” he echoes.

“Yes. Visiting me today,” Jumin says.

The mint-haired man takes a longer than necessary sip of wine.

“She did,” Jumin says, volunteering an answer to his own question.

V sighs and shakes his head, his smile unfading. “She did.”

“I knew it.”

“You knew the whole time?”

“The timing was too convenient.” Jumin chuckles. “And I assume she figured that my lack of opportunity to prepare would render me somewhat less formal about the whole thing.”

“She called me as soon as she found out I was back in the city and insisted I visit. She didn’t give me much choice, actually. She’s a very persuasive woman.”

“She is indeed.” Jumin smiles warmly. “Then it seems I will have to thank her later.”

“Me too,” V hums. The quiet unnaturally lingers for a beat too long before he adds, “Know that I did– I do miss you often, and I’m sorry for not getting in touch more. It can be quite difficult to approach when… Ah.” His free hand nervously opens and closes tight again in his lap—a visual to accompany the way he fiddles with the idea of honesty then pushes it far enough from the realm of possibility that he can plausibly deny it was ever there. “Things get in the way.”

“Call,” Jumin says, and does not press the vagueness of things or how they get in the way. His unbreakable loyalty sits unbelonging but welcomed with the utmost gratitude behind Jihyun’s rib cage. “Whenever you are available to do so. That’s all I ask.”

“The service really is bad out there most of the time.”

“A broken phone call is better than no phone call.”

“Noted.”

They fall into a real, comfortable silence, then. Through it something feels like they’re back, though they never really left. Like children who look to each other for love they lack elsewhere. Like teenagers willingly dependent on one another for companionship and a semblance of normality. Like fresh adults learning to navigate the world with one’s arm tenderly thrown over the other’s shoulder.

“Do you remember,” Jumin starts, “Between our sixteenth birthdays, when you stole a bottle of wine from your father for us to share?”

“Actually, I do. I think that was the first time,” V muses, “That I’d done anything I considered genuinely rebellious.”

Jumin laughs loudly in surprise and leans in closer, elbows resting on his knees as if he’s about to share a lifelong secret. “Are we not counting the time you snuck out of your house in the middle of the night to tell me about the dream you had where we ran away together and lived in a tent on Jeju island?”

“Oh, God. I had forgotten about that.”

“You got grounded for a week. I recall your father rather distastefully using my almost being kidnapped as an excuse to keep you indoors,” Jumin says.

V smiles, light and sweet, then leans back in his chair. He actually hadn’t told Jumin the extent of the way his father would compare them, he doesn’t think. Maybe for the best. “I think you’re drunk,” he says.

“Untrue.” A smile tugs at the corners of Jumin’s lips again in return. He reaches to lightly nudge Jihyun's knee. “You shouldn’t lie, nor so wildly doubt my alcohol tolerance.”

“You’re getting nostalgic. That’s the first sign.”

“Hmph.” An indistinct, quiet chatter drifts from outside of the penthouse and Jumin leans back in turn, stretching as he does so. “My dearest must be back,” he comments.

And time is a funny thing—passing always, steadily, yet hours can feel so short in the right company. Just as years can feel so long in the absence of it.

“Your hearing is exceptional even in your old age,” V quips.

“I’m just twenty-eight. And you are practically a month older than I am.”

The door opens through another bout of Jihyun’s laughter.

“Oh, V! I didn’t expect to see you here,” the woman says as she takes off her jacket in the doorway.

“Unexpected indeed,” Jumin replies. She looks at him and he hides his smile with the final swig of his wine.

“He figured it out relatively fast,” V says with a chuckle. “And then had me admit it.”

“My beloved wife and closest friend, scheming behind my back. Who would have thought?” Jumin teases, faux-offended.

“He can be very convincing,” V says.

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, exasperated. “Let me grab a glass and join you. I assume you’ll be staying longer, V?”

Jihyun nods and looks back to Jumin with a soft fondness in his expression; the kind reserved only for old friends. The kind that holds a deep-seated thankfulness—I am so glad you’re in my life. I can only hope that we’ll find each other in the next one.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Can you make a list of fics where prim lives, she could have never gone to the capital or survived the bombing just in the end she is alive, please and thank you

Hello!

Sorry, this took some time! I knew there were some out there and wanted time to gather them but I still struggled to locate them so I'll be updating as I find more!

Burned Bread and Wilting Petals-SpringSagittaria (ao3) Summary: This is an alternate post-Mockingjay story. Changes were made from Mockingjay: Peeta was never hijacked, Finnick survives, and Prim isn't injured in the Capitol bombing- Peeta is. Katniss is still forced to remain in District 12 while Peeta is stuck in the Capitol. She’s devastated and misses him. The story starts 1 month after Katniss, Prim, and Haymitch arrive in District 12. There are lots of happy changes, but Peeta deteriorates mentally. It will get better, but slowly. Curious Kat-MissprissHG (ff.net) Summary: While on the Victory Tour, Katniss suddenly becomes very curious and Peeta is the only one who she feels safe enough to ask. Will he answer her questions? Will he show her what she wants? Find out how Katniss explores her newfound sexuality with Peeta. Mature content. I'd Fly the River-loveleee (ao3) Summary: Haymitch sighs again. “Well, no point in dragging this out. I got a phone call yesterday.” He pauses. “The boy’s coming back.” (Prim didn't die, Katniss didn't burn, Gale didn't sin…and Peeta comes back to District Twelve three months after the end of the war. Post-Mockingjay AU.) Sing You Back Home-thesweetnessofspring (ao3) Summary: After the war, Katniss returns to Twelve with her family and Gale following close behind. When Haymitch tells her that Peeta plans to move to District Four after his therapy is complete in the Capitol, Katniss has to figure out how to rebuild her life without her dandelion in the spring. “We had to be. In the Games…” I stop, unable to go further. I can’t speak of it. I’ll fall apart if I do. Instead I concentrate on the slanting of the sun through the window, but somehow even that feels connected to Peeta, of our day lounging on the roof with the sunshine in our hair. A day that we’ll never see again. I was supposed to be dead, though, for those days to end. “Yes. Yes, those horrifying experiences you two had together. You had to depend on one another during those times.” “Always,” I whisper. “Not just when there were cameras. I always needed him.” Slaughterhouse (Seven) Five-quothme (ao3) Summary: "Our next move," Peeta says, "is to kill me." 7 things that should have happened at the end. Slow and Steady Wins the Race-PoppedTheP (ff.net) Summary: Over the years he waits to stop feeling like a five year old with a crush around her. He doesn't. AU. Prim & Peeta weren't Reaped. Without Hunger Games throwing them together will Peeta get a chance with his dream girl? Oneshot. Moments from their lives. Sure thing-kardamon Summary: "She remembers fire. Not the comforting fire glowing at the hearth that provides warmth and light during long winter nights or the exhilarating, beautiful flames Cinna used to dress her into, but angry, scorching blaze of explosion that burns everything to the ground. Sometimes she thinks it was white-hot and blinding. Sometimes she’s sure it was red as blood. Sometimes she cannot get rid of the idea that it was black and cold and swallowed her whole." (the one where Prim lives)

Happy reading!

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions please feel free to send an ask!

-E

[klausysworld]

hello can you write a one-shot, where klaus and y/n are a couple (there is no hayley and hope) and she has some kind of cancer and klaus always accompanies her in her treatments and gets her the best doctors (because he loves her duh) But there comes a point where his health deteriorates and he needs an organ transplant, but there is no one compatible and if he does not receive his transplant he will die and since Klaus cannot lose her, he causes the brain death of several people so that they can donate their Organs to his girl maybe elijah is outraged and confronts him about the deaths he has created and klaus just says "because i love her". Sorry if this is too distressing.☺️

It’s okay.

(Third person)

Klaus never once left her side.

The start of their relationship was a little rocky, always is with the Mikaelsons but y/n was kind and accepting. She searched for the good in Klaus, in all of the Mikaelsons. He couldn’t help but fall for her.

That’s why it was such a panic when she began sleeping for so long, when he had to coax her out from the bed or find her passed out in her chair. The concern seeped in as she began coughing continuously. It was when he held her hand rubbing her back and she coughed blood onto the floor did he decide enough was enough.

He had witches coming in to see her, he was certain someone had hexed her, it was supernatural and he was furious when the witches could never tell him what was wrong but he could see their pitiful looks as they looked at his girl.

Finally Freya told him that he should take her to the doctors and he didn’t hesitate. He sped all the way there, carrying her as he jogged to the receptionist and compelled them to see her immediately.

The doctor did many blood tests and took her for scans but explained it would take at least a few hours to get everything back. He stayed with her, making sure she was warm enough and as comfortable as you can be in a hospital bed.

“Klaus…do you think it’s bad?” She asked in a croaky voice and he gently squeezed her hand

“You’re going to be just fine, it’s a chest infection is all” he told her but oh how he was wrong.

Klaus’ heart dropped seeing the pure fear and devastation on y/n’s face, he held her hand tighter trying to bring her back from her spinning mind

“My love, it’s okay, you’re going to have the best treatment and everything will be back to normal, I promise you sweetheart” but she wouldn’t look at him. Her face remained blank as she looked over her scans, the doctor and nurse spoke to them both about possible trials and treatment options, Klaus took multiple leaflets and looked them over fully. He compelled the doctors, surgeons everyone in the hospital for which was the best option.

He was now expecting the call for her to begin her treatment.

All of the Mikaelsons tried their best not to ask questions or make her feel worse.

But it was difficult when she lost so much weight it was almost frightening, her body growing weak and exhausted. Elijah watched as Niklaus carried sweet y/n to the bathroom, his younger brother had tears on his cheeks as he whispered kind words into her hair.

Even the Mikaelsons’ enemies noticed that Klaus wasn’t active in the supernatural world. The one time someone dared to attack, it caused y/n’s breathing to shorted even more than it was and she ended up in hospital, Kol and Rebekah made a display of a warning that the Mikaelsons were not to be messed with for the time being.

Klaus had professional doctors and nurses in the compound all the time. They all had their own rooms and were ready to be on their feet the second he called.

Since starting chemotherapy he didn’t want her to have to be in hospital all the time and so he had everything she could need at home.

“You don’t have to take care of me Klaus, I’ll be fine in a hospital” she would murmur to him but he just shook his head

“I love you to the ends of the universe, i will never leave you, never” he whispered

“I’m never going to be a vampire, even if i make it through this, the vampire blood might make it worse” she choked and he held her tighter

“When sweetheart, when you make it through this. And you do not need to be a vampire for me to love you, i fell in love with you as a human, i still love you as a human and i will continue to love you even when you are old and grey”

“I’m going to die” she uttered holding back a sob

“Not yet, not for a long time yet” he convinced but he could practically hear her heart breaking as she shook her head in defeat.

He repeated the words ‘i love you’ until they both fell asleep, he could sense her hope slipping and it was terrifying. He couldn’t bare the thought of her letting go.

Klaus watched the tears stream down her face as he tried his best to gently brush her thinning hair, clumps coming out with the brush causing her to cry a little louder

Sometimes Rebekah would help but they found it only made her feel worse when they failed at a hairstyle.

Eventually she lost all of it and refused to look at herself. Klaus was sure to try make her feel better. His arms held her small fragile frame as he kissed every millimetre of her head

“You’re so beautiful” “you don’t understand how perfect you are” “you are my heart and soul” “you’re so gorgeous sweetheart”

Sometimes he would have her stand on his feet, a hand on her waist and other around her shoulders holding her against him as her arms circled his torso and he swayed them to the music.

Klaus wasn’t ready for such news. He wasn’t sure how he could possibly tell her that the chemo hadn’t worked the way they hoped. That the risk of the cancer spreading was heightened and they weren’t sure if they could help. He had compelled the doctors to tell him the news first and he was beginning to regret it.

Slowly he took her hands into his shaky ones but just as he opened his mouth to speak she just nodded

“It’s okay” she whispered in a cracked voice

“Love-“

“No it’s okay. It’s okay.” She repeated squeezing his hand and tugging him closer

“It’s okay” he replied with a sniff

Klaus was always trying to find more ways to help.

One day it had been particularly bad, her body wasn’t working right and she’d been barely conscious for nearly a week in a hospital bed. At one point he almost wanted her to pass so that she didn’t have to feel pain.

He kissed the back her hand as he pulled the blankets up around her

“You know that it’s okay. It’s okay to let go if it hurts sweetheart. Just- just know that i will always love you. Please remember that-“ he choked

“You don’t have to suffer anymore, you’re going to be okay” he sobbed. Rebekah stood at the door holding in her own cries while watching the scene unfold.

Thankfully she did not let go that day. She woke up to find Klaus holding her hand between both of his while on his knees facing her, his head resting in his arms while he whispered prayers for her life.

She brought her other hand to run it through his soft hair, his body stuck in place as he feared he had imagined it before slowly, cautiously looking up to her. He held her so tight he feared he may break her.

She no longer left the hospital, the makeshift one at home wasn’t reliable enough and Klaus didn’t want to be the reason she had complications.

And he was glad that he was there when the doctors announced there was a possibility that an organ transplant would help her. A few surgeries, some more chemo and she could get better. It would take time, patience and well a doner but it would be worth it.

But the system was taking too long and her health was getting worse and worse, Klaus no longer slept because what if he missed the moment she left him? What if he wasn’t holding her hand?

He didn’t feed unless y/n begged him to and he barely spoke unless it was to her or a doctor. And even then she mainly slept but he didn’t mind, he liked to think of it as her trying to regain her strength.

Klaus was growing impatient and frustrated and worried.

He couldn’t handle the wait. He had to get her what she needed now.

And so there he was slowly suffocating someone nice and healthy so that their organs would be up for donation. But this person wasn’t on the list. And he was furious.

So he did it again. But this person had the wrong blood type.

Then the next person had turned out to have their own disease that nobody had figured out before until their death.

He was killing people off lest right and centre. He felt as though he was going crazy. Was the world just that against him?

“Please stop making her suffer, just- just make it work. Come on, just work” he whispered as he let the women infront of him struggle against his hold. Once he got the doctors to take the tests he was forever indebted to whatever power granted him the wish. Finally the right person.

And when he told her and he got to see her hopeful smile, he knew that this was forever worth it.

He held her hand as she went under for the surgery and stayed in the waiting room the entire time

“You know that i love you right?” She asked as she was getting ready for the transplant

“Of course i do, of course darling, of course. I love you too, so much” he smiled at her

“I haven’t said it much recently and-“

“It’s okay, I promise, it’s okay, i know, i always know, i just hope that you know too”

She nodded in response and they just basked in each others love.

Elijah approached his brother with a stoic expression. They stood watching y/n with tubes connected to her body. She was still knock out asleep from the surgery and on a range of drugs.

“She would not agree with your methods” Elijah muttered distastefully at his brother

“She’s alive, it’s all that matters” he responded. Uncaring for his brother’s judgment, still in utter bliss that she was finally he getting healthier.

“You murdered people-“

“To save her” he ended but Elijah was still mad

“You have taken innocent lives! Niklaus we were passed this!”

“Elijah…i love her, i would not care if i had to kill every thing on this planet, i wouldn’t care if i had to trade in my own life. For her, i would do anything. I will not feel bad for giving her more time”

“She will not be here forever” he reminded

“When she dies, so will i” he replied quietly and Elijah looked at him with a soft and sad gaze

“You would take you own life?” He asked

“I cannot bare to be without her Elijah- i just can’t” he whispered and Elijah put his hand on his brother’s shoulder

“She’s strong” he told him

“She’s so strong” he repeated

They just had to hope that she would remain strong.

[andreas-river]

🐝 here again! I loved the Soap one you did!! It scratched all the right spots in my brain and I giggled like a schoolgirl while reading it.

Now for something more serious >:)

Picture this *holds up fingers to create a frame*

Ghost is romantically involved with someone who works in technology or whatever. Like she’s not used to physical combat in the slightest. Somehow, a bio agent got into her office and he has to watch her slowly deteriorate and possibly die from this manufactured illness.

Ofc she survives because she’s a tough cookie and he’s just so relieved that she’s okay.

(Reader could be gn but some spicy things in the end would be cool. Your smut is so well written 💜$

Lighthouse [Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader]

TW: character death but not really, mention and description of sex, mention of violence, bio agents and medical inaccuracies, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

A/N: hello 🐝! I'm really, really sorry it took me so long to write this. Sometimes I struggle with myself and my mental health, and I literally start malfunctioning. Anyway, I hope I met your expectations on this one!

You were working like every other day, the humming sound of the machines and the bright screens of the computers felt almost like a second home to you. Your first home? It wasn't a building, nor an apartment: it was a man, his name Ghost – Simon, for you. But it was complicated, to say at least. It took months to go over all those walls he put around himself, to protect that one side of him, the real side of himself, and often just climbing them resulted in other walls even higher than the previous ones. But you kept going persistently, and often Ghost could not understand why you cared so much about him, how you had all that strength to destroy his walls in such a short time, since he had taken years to build that armor that he now wears every moment, never taking it off.

And at the end, Simon felt it. You became his lighthouse, for a sailor lost in the middle of the ocean, at the mercy of the waves of his nightmares that haunted him during the cold nights. But now, it wasn't night and he wasn't asleep. It wasn't his job to understand how it happened, but he felt something between anger and sorrow coursing through his veins when he found you laying on a bed in the medical wing, alone, fighting something that weren't bullets or knives.

He felt anger because he couldn't do anything to help you.

He felt sorrow because he couldn't protect you.

Some medications were being pumped inside your veins – he counted at least three of them, but when his eyes landed on yours, the world around him stopped, he couldn't breathe anymore, but then he heard your voice, tired and strained from the fatigue. "Those packages," a cough stops you for a moment, and it takes you some seconds to stop it. "Something was inside them. I didn't know.."

He raises his hands, stopping you as he closes the distance between you and him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn't bother to explain that everything was being taken care of, and that those packages were already being tracked down.

He holds your hand, noticing how it felt against his callous fingers: the outline of your bones was more evident through the thin skin, as your grip was not as firm as it once was. But he still felt it, he still remembered how much stronger you were, how your hands held his broad shoulders as he sank inside you less than a week ago, hiding in the woman's showers – that were fortunately empty at midnight. He still felt your legs around his waist, and how much they were shaking at the end as you held onto him for dear life, gripping him with so much strength that he felt like he was fainting while still being buried deep inside you.

But for now, as he stares at your weakening form, he just wants you to be alive, to feel you alive, laying at your side and holding you between his arms.

-

As days turned into weeks, Simon remained at your side day and night, never leaving you alone for a second. He couldn't do anything else except witnessing how your body deteriorates and grows weaker and sicker, the internal war you were facing even more monstrous than the countless battles he faced on the battlefield.

He couldn't sleep anymore at the thought of you laying there, it was driving him mad, and watching helplessly through all of that didn't help at all.

When he walk back to your room after a debriefing – after Price repeated to him that leaving your room for an hour would not change the situation, his heart stopped as he saw some nurses running and entering no other than your room, and quickening the pace takes him outside the door, his heart shattering in a million pieces as everyone surrounds your bed, one of them pressing a defibrillator on your chest, the constant beeping from the machine at your side is the only thing he hears.

He breaks down, knees hitting the hard floor at the foot of the bed, a scream echoes inside him – or did he really scream with his voice? He doesn't understand while a nurse tries to move him away, everything is blurred except from your eyes, he just wants to see them open again, at least once, at least forever.

And then it happens – you gasp for air as if you were underwater, eyes wide open and coughing, and he starts to breathe again with you, oxygen coming back in full force.

He doesn't hear anything else, not even the nurses around him saying that you will feel better and that you will heal soon, his legs almost give up when he literally jumps on you, his arms holding you so tight like he fears that you might disappear.

For the first time in weeks you don't feel pain anymore, the ache that lingered inside you was only a distant memory on the back of your mind. You let yourself relax under his body, feeling through the fabric his muscles flexing around you.

"Simon-" your voice came out raw, but he instantly moved to pick some water that you didn't even see.

He's gentle while he holds it for you, removing the bottle from your lips, seeing his gaze lingering one more second before shifting back again at your eyes.

"You will be fine." he whispers, slowly tracing circles on your cheek with his finger. His eyes never wander from you, swearing to himself that whatever it is that almost killed you, he would travel the entire globe to find the person responsible, and make them pay, no matter the cost.

[asherlockstudy]

ok I'm sorry I know I ask a tonne of stupid questions, but I really do value your opinion on these things, so I wanted to know two things, if you'd be able to answer them: (also my sincerest apologies if you've already answered these in previous posts since I've read most of what you've written, but I read it about 2 years ago so I don't remember it all) 1. What's your opinion on the last scenes of TSoT wherein Sherlock looks around at everyone before leaving the wedding?

2. Do you think John's violent tendencies have been simmering beneath the surface the whole time? As in, do you think we've been seeing him be violent ever since the first seasons but we all were fine with it until it was directed at Sherlock?

(sorry for the long ask by the way, love your work!!!!! thank you!!!)

Hello, thank you for your nice words and sorry for the late answer! It has been crazy.

TSoT last scene with Sherlock looking around: I don't think there is something very significant in this moment, except it shows Sherlock's vulnerability and his need - even HIS need - to actually connect with people. Sherlock has done the hard job, be a best man and then also inform the Watsons they are expecting. The momentary sorrow in his face that can not be hidden freaks out John as usual, who makes a heteronormative joke and then drags Mary away to dance with her. Sherlock pretends well and he actually intends to keep pretending for the rest of the night. He looks around for a familiar face to connect, to dance with. He sees Janine and he actually makes a move towards her, to join her in her dance. So, he tried to join in, to have fun despite the obvious imminent deterioration of his relationship with John that this marriage and then also a child would bring. He wants to do well by John and be a proper best man until the end of this night. Janine, however, has already found a dancing partner and shows him she's "taken". Sherlock takes the hint and stops in his tracks, this time does a rushed low-key embarrassed scan of the room and decides to leave. I don't know if this was the typical heteronormative-plot-alternative-targeting-the-casuals (besides, viewers had to believe Sherlock was attracted to Janine for the early scenes in His Last Vow to make sense before Sherlock's eventual reveal that his attraction was only a scheme) or just a little moment of a platonic rejection that was just the cherry on top for Sherlock that night, but obviously he wasn't really heartbroken because Janine danced with somebody else. The point is that it came fresh right after the serious ordeal, John's marriage to somebody else, and it worked like a nasty reminder: you get rejected, this love and socializing thing that works so naturally for everyone else does not work for you. Sherlock is reminded of this seconds after the charged discussion with the Watsons and it just seals the deal. Sherlock looks around half-heartedly but this time he has taken his decision. Surely it's not him to chat someone up or just dance and blend with others casually. Sherlock decides he did his part and he becomes "Sherlock Holmes" again. He leaves the party, wearing his cold otherwordly detective persona once more.

John's violent tendencies: I have written two metas which tackle this topic a bit. One of them is John's Choices. It's not exactly what you are asking but it explains why John has become what he is by The Lying Detective. However, I also intended at some point in time to make a post series exactly about what you are asking. I even made the first part of such a series; The mysterious John Watson - Part 1. Unimportant fun fact because I am getting nostalgic now: this is the second meta I ever wrote. So, you know, A LOT of time has passed and apparently I made such thoughts about John's violent side ever since I first watched the show. (The paragraph about TLD was added much later.) For some reason I never wrote the Part 2 and I can't do it now because I have forgotten how exactly I wanted to go about it in the beginning. In any case, my first part is pretty much a standalone (albeit not very thorough, it is more introductory) post and there I completely agree with you that John always had violent tendencies but we have a habit of forgiving him. Before meeting Sherlock, he is an unpleasant, sullen, miserable man. Once he met Sherlock he was able to channel his violent tendencies to a noble reason, that of solving a crime and bringing the villain to justice. Before Sherlock, he volunteered to the war because he thought this was an acceptable, healthier way to channel his aggression. John is a darker character than most fans believe. Sherlock has his moments of darkness too. They are destiny for each other because they know how to bring out the better self from one another and decompress the pent up darkness and aggression in somewhat healthy ways. They are broken people who get fixed when they are together in a stable enough friendship / relationship. When the relationship is threatened though, so is this fine emotional balance that keeps them at check. Now, what made John have a dark side in him? Probably what also made his sister Harry an alcoholic. Problematic upbringing.